HARRISON  ROBERTSON 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE     OPPONENTS 


The  Opponents 


BY 

HARRISON    ROBERTSON 

AUTHOR    OF    "RED    BLOOD    AND    BLUE,' 
"THE  INLANDER,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1902 


Copyright,  1902, 
BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


All  right!  reserved 


Published,  April,  1902 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS      •    JOHN   WILSON 
AND     SON      •      CAMBRIDGE,     U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 


I.  ALTERNATIVES i 

II.   SIDNEY  GARRARD  AS  A  MONEY-MAKER  .  10 

III.    "BENEATH    HER    FEET" 26 

IV.  "VERY,  VERY  NICE,  OR  HORRID"    ...  40 

V.  A  HOUSE  is  PAINTED 55 

VI.  AT  TUNSTALL  PADDOCKS 66 

VII.  THE  HEAD  AND  THE  WALL 72 

VIII.  A  YOUNG  FOOL 80 

IX.  THE  ISSUE  JOINED 92 

X.  A  WINNING  AND  LOSING  SPEECH    .    .    .  108 

XI.  THE   PRELIMINARY   HAND-CLASP  ....  124 

XII.  A  HORSE-BLOCK   SYMPOSIUM 138 

XIII.  THE  QUEENIN'  OF  IT 150 

XIV.  THE  CONQUEST  OF  THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA'S 

SUPERIOR 167 

XV.  SOME  RAIDERS  AND  A  THEORY  ....  178 

XVI.  FROM  A  STAFF  CORRESPONDENT  ....  196 


vi  Contents 

PAGE 

XVII.   MARGARET  HELM  SHOCKS  GOOD  PEOPLE  203 

XVIII.   THE  PENALTY 217 

XIX.   ANOTHER   PENALTY 233 

XX.  THE  LIGHT  THAT  BLASTS 250 

XXI.   LEVEL  WITH  THE  EARTH 265 

XXII.  THE  MORNING  OF  THE  CONVENTION  .    .  277 

XXIII.  "THE  OLD  HICKORY  OF  LUTTROLL"    .  288 

XXIV.  MORGAN  TUNSTALL  DECIDES  HIS  FUTURE  301 
XXV.  MORGAN    TUNSTALL    CARRIES    OUT    HIS 

DECISION 310 

XXVI.  THE  SUNLIGHT  ON  THE  WALL     .    .    .  325 

XXVII.   INTO  THE  COMING  SPRING 340 


The  Opponents 


The  Opponents 


ALTERNATIVES 

"  No.  7  three  hours  and  twenty  minutes  late." 

Morgan  Tunstall  stopped  before  the  bulle 
tin  board  in  the  Tenth  Street  Station  and 
stared  at  the  chalked  words. 

Number  7  was  scheduled  to  leave  Louisville 
at  2.35  P.  M.  and  to  reach  Nashville  at  7.50, 
which,  Tunstall  calculated,  would  put  him  in 
the  Tennessee  capital  in  time,  if  he  dressed  on 
the  Pullman,  for  the  Fogg  dinner.  He  wished 
particularly  to  attend  the  Fogg  dinner,  for  it 
was  given  to  celebrate  the  engagement  of  Tom 
Lockwood  to  Miss  Fogg,  and  Tunstall,  being 
happily  married  himself,  was  eager  to  testify 
his  joy  at  the  good  fortune  of  his  old  chum. 
But  if  there  was  no  train  to  Nashville  for  more 
than  three  hours  yet,  the  Fogg  dinner  was  out 
of  the  question,  and  satisfying  himself  by  in 
quiry  that  Number  7  was  his  only  chance  and 
that  the  bulletin  was  correct,  he  left  the  station, 


2  The  Opponents 

his  keen  disappointment  nettled  by  a  feeling  of 
personal  resentment  against  the  unreliability  of 
railroad  time-tables. 

He  went  to  his  club  and  loafed  there  till  din 
ner,  after  which,  with  a  friend,  he  crossed  the 
street  to  the  theatre  and  spent  two  hours  with 
Jefferson's  Bob  Acres. 

It  was  not  long  before  midnight  when  he  got 
off  a  Fourth  Avenue  car  and  walked  over  to 
Third,  where  his  house  was,  in  a  fashion 
able  quarter  of  Louisville.  He  was  twenty- 
five,  rich,  well  educated,  travelled.  Best  of 
all,  in  his  estimation  of  Fortune's  favors,  he 
was  married  to  the  woman  he  loved,  and  the 
home  he  had  built  as  the  flower  of  his  wealth 
and  taste  was  incomparably  more  to  him  than 
that,  because  his  inspiration  had  been  the  ma 
terial  expression  of  his  devotion  to  her  and 
of  his  anticipation  of  the  life  they  were  to  live 
together,  and  because  he  felt  that  she  had  un 
derstood  and  was  glad,  as  he  was  glad,  that 
what  he  had  done  was  his  best,  and  had  been 
done  for  her. 

As  he  walked  away  from  the  car  his  con 
sciousness  of  a  day  gone  wrong  had  something 
in  keeping  with  the  depressing  fog  of  the  chilly 
atmosphere,  which  seemed  to  asphyxiate  the 


Alternatives  3 

street-lights  and,  as  he  stepped  from  a  pave 
ment  of  concrete  to  one  of  brick,  to  disinte 
grate  the  solid  earth  itself  into  a  soggy  sponge. 
Not  only  had  he  missed  the  Fogg  dinner,  but 
Grace,  who  had  been  disinclined  to  go,  would 
not  be  at  home  to-night,  for  she  had  insisted, 
before  he  had  started  for  the  Tenth  Street  Sta 
tion  that  day,  that  she  would  not  brave  the 
loneliness  of  his  absence,  but  would  take  one 
of  the  afternoon  trains  from  the  First  Street 
Station  and  spend  the  night  with  friends  in 
Pewee  Valley,  a  few  miles  out  from  the  city. 

Tunstall's  pace  was  slow,  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  and  his  healthy  mind  veering  from  his 
irritating  ill  luck  to  the  marked  distinguishing 
characteristics  of  brick  sidewalks  as  affected  by 
the  weather.  In  front  of  his  own  house  he 
raised  his  head  from  this  study  of  brick  side 
walks,  and  his  face  suddenly  glowed  with  a 
smile.  There  were  lights  in  Grace's  window. 
She  had  evidently  reconsidered  her  plan  to  go 
out  to  Pewee  Valley.  She  was  at  home.  After 
all,  the  day  had  not  ended  so  badly  as  it  might 
have  done. 

Tunstall  eagerly  sought  his  key  and  let  him 
self  in.  The  hall  and  first-floor  rooms  were 
dark.  The  house  had  been  closed  for  the 


4  The  Opponents 

night.  His  unexpected  return  would  be  a 
pleasing  little  surprise  for  Grace,  —  as  pleasing, 
perhaps,  he  was  happy  to  believe,  as  his  find 
ing  her  at  home  was  for  him. 

His  swift  feet  sank  noiselessly  into  the  soft 
carpets  of  the  hall  and  stairway.  He  was 
quickly  in  front  of  Grace's  door.  But  as  he 
clasped  the  knob  a  strange  transformation 
came  over  him.  His  hand  on  the  knob  was 
motionless;  his  figure  stiffened  in  an  abruptly 
arrested  posture ;  his  strong  young  face  grew 
instantly  stronger  with  the  white,  stony  death 
of  its  youth.  In  the  murmur  of  talk  coming 
from  his  wife's  room  he  recognized  the  low, 
refined  voice  of  Julius  Knowles. 

For  a  little  Tunstall  stood,  inclined  forward, 
as  one  transfixed.  Then  he  breathed  again ; 
a  tinge  of  blood  crept  back  into  his  face ;  he 
drew  himself  up  slowly,  and  half  turning  in 
his  steps,  faltered  for  a  second  and  leaned  with 
his  back  against  the  door  frame.  He  lifted  his 
hand  uncertainly  toward  his  collar,  but  its  wav 
ering  course  was  suddenly  checked  as  the 
fingers  closed  tensely  and  the  clenched  fist 
was  rigidly  extended.  A  dull  purple  now 
dyed  his  skin,  his  chest  deepened,  and,  as  a 
soldier  who  had  heard  the  voice  of  command, 


Alternatives  5 

he  strode  steadily  across  the  hall,  erect,  with 
fixed  eyes,  and  disappeared  through  the  op 
posite  doorway. 

He  returned  almost  immediately,  with  the 
same  martial  step,  with  the  same  fixed  eyes,  his 
right  hand,  which  hung  by  his  side,  holding  a 
revolver. 

He  recrossed  the  hall  to  his  wife's  room,  and 
turned  the  knob.  The  door  was  locked.  There 
was  an  instant  hush  of  the  voices  within. 
Tunstall,  his  jaws  set  and  his  veins  swelling, 
braced  his  shoulder  against  the  door  and  with 
one  determined  strain  forced  it  open. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  room,  Grace,  blanched 
and  trembling,  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  it, 
her  hand  on  the  arm  of  a  chair,  from  which 
she  seemed  to  have  just  risen,  her  startled, 
horrified  eyes  directed  helplessly  upon  him. 
Only  for  a  moment  did  she  look  at  him ;  then 
turning  away,  she  threw  her  hands  over  her 
face,  and  with  a  shivering  moan  sank  to  her 
knees  and  bowed  her  head  among  the  pillows 
in  the  chair. 

Julius  Knowles,  who,  with  sickened  visage 
and  forehead  dampening  clammily,  had  been 
standing  a  few  feet  behind  Grace,  never  took 
his  stupefied  eyes  from  Tunstall,  and  made  no 


6  The  Opponents 

motion,  except  once  to  open  his  dry  lips  as 
if  to  speak,  when  no  audible  word  came  from 
them. 

Tunstall  did  not  stir  for  a  full  quarter  min 
ute  after  entering  the  room.  The  two  men 
faced  each  other  silently.  There  was  no  sound 
except  the  ticking  of  the  clock  and  the  flare  of 
a  gas  jet ;  even  the  convulsive  breathing  of  the 
woman  seemed  to  have  ceased. 

When  Tunstall  did  speak  he  was  standing 
where  he  had  stopped  after  breaking  open  the 
door.  His  countenance  was  an  expressionless 
mask,  his  tones  passionlessly  inexorable. 

"  When  I  came  in  here,"  he  said,  "  I  intended 
to  kill  you  both.  But  instant  death  is  too 
merciful  a  fate  for  such  as  you.  There  ought 
to  be,  and  there  is,  a  greater  penalty.  I  am 
going  to  give  you  the  choice  between  them." 

He  paused  a  moment.  There  was  not  even 
a  tremor  now  in  the  intense  stillness  of  Grace, 
and  Knowles  made  no  sign,  except  the  mo 
mentary  blinking  of  his  eyelids  as  he  held  his 
gaze  on  Tunstall. 

"  The  alternatives  I  offer  you,"  Tunstall  went 
on,  "are  these:  either  to  be  shot  dead  now, 
here ;  or  to  live  together  as  husband  and  wife 
in  this  city,  until  one  of  you  dies." 


Alternatives  7 

Grace  had  lifted  her  head  an  inch  in  alert 
suspense.  Knowles  twisted  his  mustache  with 
a  nervous  hand,  and,  after  a  little,  asked 
huskily : 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Simply  death,  or  life  together.  I  shall  kill 
you — both  of  you — now;  or  you  will  elope 
from  this  house  to-night.  You  may  go  where 
you  please  for  a  few  weeks,  until  I  have  secured 
a  divorce.  Then  you  will  return  to  Louisville, 
be  legally  married,  and  live  together  as  hus 
band  and  wife  here,  among  those  who  know 
you  best  and  will  be  familiar  with  your  story." 

He  was  silent,  awaiting  some  reply. 

"Are  you  in  earnest?"  said  Knowles  un 
certainly. 

Tunstall  waved  his  hand  with  a  slight  motion 
of  impatience. 

"  Understand  me  fully,"  he  continued.  "  I 
know  you  are  a  coward,  Knowles.  I  presume 
you  are  armed  at  this  moment  —  cowards  of 
your  kind  usually  are.  If  you  were  a  braver 
scoundrel  you  might  defend  yourself  and  take 
the  chance  of  killing  me  and  thus  escape  both 
the  alternatives  I  offer  you.  Do  not  make  the 
mistake  of  hoping  that  by  agreeing  to  accept 
now  the  second  you  may  merely  gain  time  to 


8  The  Opponents 

extricate  yourself  from  my  conditions.  You 
can  never  elude  me.  While  you  are  away  I 
shall  always  be  in  touch  with  you  through  my 
agents.  You  can  go  nowhere,  at  no  time,  that 
they  will  not  follow  you.  When  you  return  to 
spend  your  wedded  lives  in  Louisville  you  will 
always  be  under  their  secret  surveillance,  and 
you  can  never  leave  for  an  hour  without  my 
knowing  it.  They  will  never  annoy  you.  They 
will  simply  keep  you  always  in  sight  and  inform 
me  if  you  attempt  to  break  your  agreement. 
In  the  end  you  can  never  escape  both  these 
alternatives,  except  by  my  death.  So  choose, 
with  your  eyes  open." 

Knowles  now  was  more  like  himself.  His 
natural  color  was  returning.  For  the  first  time 
his  eyes  left  Tunstall,  and  with  a  plausible 
effort  at  coolness  he  took  out  his  watch  and 
glanced  at  the  hour.  There  was  even  a  trace 
of  a  smile  on  his  lips  as  he  spoke. 

"You  make  it  easy  for  me,  Tunstall,"  he 
said,  still  studying  his  watch.  "  As  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  it  will  be  only  a  happiness  for  me 
to  agree  to  your  second  alternative." 

"Very  well,"  Tunstall  replied.  "But  that 
requires  acceptance  by  two.  And  you  ?  "  His 
burning  eyes  were  on  his  wife,  whom  an  hour 


Alternatives  9 

before  he  had  idolized  and  whom  now  he  could 
not  even  address  by  her  name. 

Her  back  was  still  to  him,  but  she  raised 
herself  on  her  knees  beside  the  chair.  She  did 
not  turn  her  head,  nor  speak. 

"  What  is  your  choice  ?  "  Tunstall  demanded. 

She  took  hold  of  the  chair-arm  and  weakly 
lifted  herself  to  her  feet.  She  made  a  groping 
motion  with  one  hand  toward  Knowles. 

"  We  —  must  go,"  she  said  feebly  to  Knowles. 

Knowles  went  to  her  and  supported  her  with 
his  arm ;  the  two  moved  toward  the  door,  and, 
as  Tunstall  stepped  aside  for  them  to  pass, 
they  left  the  room  and  the  house. 


II 


SIDNEY  GARRARD  AS  A  MONEY-MAKER 

A  LITTLE  more  than  twenty  years  later,  on  a 
certain  June  morning,  in  a  certain  county  of 
Kentucky  within  fifty  miles  of  Louisville, 
Sidney  Garrard,  having  finished  a  breakfast 
that  had  been  kept  warm  for  him  over-time, 
stepped  out  on  the  porch,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  a  lazy  whistle  answering  the 
nickered  greeting  of  Blitzen,  saddled  and 
waiting  him  at  the  stile. 

Beyond  the  grove  in  which  the  house  was 
set  rolled,  on  one  side  of  the  lane,  the  pas 
tures,  green  in  the  foreground,  and  merging 
into  smoky  steel  in  the  distance,  dotted  with 
an  occasional  oak  or  sugar-tree  and  with 
statue-like  cattle,  heads  down.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  lane,  hedged  with  blackberry  and 
wild-grape  vines,  stretched  a  field  of  young 
corn,  whose  pallid  blades  stirred  above  a 
threatening  growth  of  grass  and  weeds.  Then 
spread  away,  to  the  deep  shades  of  creek  and 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker   1 1 

ravine,  the  gold  of  ripened  wheat,  shimmering 
in  the  sun  and  gently  vibrating,  perhaps  to 
an  imagination  more  sensitive  than  Sidney 
Garrard's  just  then,  with  the  whir  of  the 
reaper  which  throbbed  faintly  in  the  distance. 

Sidney  Garrard,  in  his  twenty-sixth  year, 
bronze-skinned  and  clear-eyed,  with  the  grace 
of  sound  nerves  and  of  physical  vigor,  was 
not  very  imaginative  this  morning.  He  felt 
a  comfort  which  came  of  sufficient  sleep,  a 
relished  breakfast,  perfect  health,  and  the 
knowledge  that  the  day  was  before  him,  to  be 
disposed  of  as  he  liked. 

He  sauntered,  bareheaded,  out  on  the 
lawn,  where  he  was  standing,  a  few  moments 
later,  passing  the  conventionalities  to  his 
appreciative  fox-hounds,  when  Wash  came 
up  the  lane  from  the  harvest  fields.  Wash, 
black,  middle-aged,  and  active,  was  the  real 
manager  of  the  Garrard  farm,  and  he  was 
walking  with  a  quicker  step  than  usual. 

"  Mawnin',  Mr.  Sid,"  he  said  cheerily, 
touching  his  hat  as  he  went  through  the 
yard. 

"  Hey,  Wash !  What 's  up  ?  What 's  your 
hurry?" 

"  I  gwine  sen'  one  de  chillun  over  to  John- 


12  The  Opponents 

son's  to  see  'f  I  cain't  git  some  er  dem  niggers 
to  he'p  out  in  de  wheat-fiel',"  Wash  explained, 
pausing.  "  We 's  sorter  short  to-day.  Sim, 
he 's  sick,  en  Mose,  he  went  en  got  married 
ag'in  las'  night  en  he  ain't  been  turned  out  de 
calaboose  yit  dis  mawnin'.  Tears  lak  Mose 
alluz  tekin'  a  notion  to  git  married  ag'in  des 
sho  's  I  git  in  a  pinch ;  en  rain  ap'  to  come 
up  fo  de  week's  out,  to-boot" 

"  Oh,  if  you  are  in  such  hard  luck  I  '11  help 
you  out  myself  till  your  reinforcements  from 
Johnson's  reach  you." 

"  Go  'long  now,  Mr.  Sid,"  Wash  laughed, 
in  his  soft,  whole-souled  way.  "  Stop  yo' 
projeckin'  wid  me,"  walking  on  and  wagging 
his  head. 

"  I  '11  report  to  you  in  the  wheat-field," 
young  Garrard  assured  him,  "  as  soon  as  I 
can  dress  more  properly  for  the  occasion." 

Wash  only  looked  back  over  his  shoulder 
and  grinned. 

"  Mr.  Sid,  he  feelin'  mighty  peart  to-day," 
he  said  to  himself. 

Mr.  Sid  went  into  the  house,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  came  out  in  an  old  suit  of  clothes  and 
a  wide-brimmed  straw  hat,  dilapidated  and 
drooping. 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker   1 3 

He  mounted  Blitzen,  and  as  he  turned  down 
the  lane  he  was  greeted  with  a  ripple  of 
laughter  from  a  young  woman  whose  face 
peered  out  at  him  over  the  hollyhock  bushes 
that  lined  the  garden  fence. 

"  What  now,  Sid  ?  "  she  called  to  him. 

"  Hullo,  Kate  !  "  pulling  up.  "  '  What  now ' 
is  a  job  in  the  wheat-field ;  I  'm  one  of  Wash's 
hands  this  morning." 

"  And  do  Wash's  hands  ride  to  work  on 
such  blue-ribbon  winners  as  Blitzen?  " 

"  This  one  does ;  and,  what 's  more,  a-wear- 
ing  in  his  buttonhole  the  prettiest  rosebud  in 
Mistress  Kitty  Cockerill's  garden." 

He  rode  up  to  the  fence,  and  Kate  Cock- 
erill,  smiling  and  glowing  with  pleasure, 
plucked  a  half-blown  Jacqueminot,  and  step 
ping  up  on  the  bottom  board  of  the  fence, 
reached  up  and  placed  the  bud  in  the  but 
tonhole  of  his  coat  as  he  leaned  over  to 
her. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  that  this  is  one  of 
those  fortunate  roses  the  poet  tells  about,  that 
got  what  they  wanted  because  they  '  dared  to 
climb.' " 

"  Perhaps,"  she  returned  in  the  same  banter 
ing  spirit.  "And  I  suppose  what  this  one 


14  The  Opponents 

wants  is  a  view  of  the  promised  spectacle  of 
Sid  Garrard  actually  at  work !  " 

He  laughed  and  galloped  away,  flinging  back 
at  her  a  bar  of  a  song,  — 

"  Oh,  the  red  rose  is  a  falcon ;  " 

while  she,  his  widowed  sister,  and  elder  by  a 
year,  followed  his  youthful  figure  with  eyes  in 
whose  fond  smile  was  the  light  of  a  love  that 
was  tenderly  maternal. 

Sid  Garrard's  work  in  the  wheat-field  was 
only  for  an  hour  —  and  that  on  a  fairly  com 
fortable  seat  on  the  reaper  —  when  Wash's 
reinforcements  from  Johnson's  arrived,  and  Sid 
mounted  Blitzen  and  rode  to  the  post-office  at 
Plover,  the  nearest  village,  three  miles  away. 

There  were  perhaps  a  hundred  houses  in 
Plover,  scattered  along  a  single  street,  and  be 
fore  one  of  these  —  built  of  rough  brick,  with  a 
wooden  platform  in  front  of  it  —  Sid  Garrard 
dismounted.  A  big  board  sign  under  the 
eaves  identified  it  as  the  establishment  of 
"Jaynes  &  Co.,  General  Mdse.  and  Post-office." 
Sid  entered  and  exchanged  jokes  with  Hi 
Jaynes,  pocketing  a  newspaper  and  reading  a 
letter  which  Hi  handed  him  from  behind  the 
glass-and-pine  boxes  of  the  post-office.  When 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker   15 

he  went  out  on  the  platform  again,  the  street, 
which  five  minutes  before  had  been  deserted 
except  for  a  few  pigs  and  chickens,  now  pre 
sented  an  added  bit  of  picturesqueness,  if  not  of 
animation,  lent  it  by  the  arrival  of  Dunk  Pea- 
body  and  his  annual  wagon-load  of  red  June- 
apples.  Dunk,  a  thin,  sallow  countryman  — 
"  clay-bank  "  his  complexion  was  described  by 
Uncle  Jesse  Craik  —  sang  out  his  wares  in  a 
melancholy  monotone,  as  he  sat  bent  over  the 
front  of  a  ramshackle  wagon,  loaded  with  apples, 
above  which  rose  a  pollarded  sapling,  on  the 
stubs  of  whose  cut  branches  stuck  clusters  of 
the  red  fruit. 

Dunk  drew  up  in  front  of  the  post-office  and 
discontinued  crying  his  apples,  to  address 
Blitzen,  who  was  showing,  by  flattened  ears 
and  warning  teeth,  his  disapproval  of  any 
nearer  approach  of  Dunk's  team. 

"  I  yi,  you  pompered  plutycrat,  you ! " 
Dunk  said  in  a  conversational  tone,  "  you  thes 
cain't  natchully  bear  to  have  the  plain  people 
come  anigh  you,  now  kin  you  ?  " 

"  Morning,  Dunk !  "  called  Garrard  from  the 
platform.  "What's  the  trouble  between  you 
and  Blitzen?" 

"  I  ganny,   that   sounds    like    Sid   Garrard ! 


1 6  The  Opponents 

Come  outn  from  under  that  hat  an'  lemme 
see  'f  'taint.  Say,  what  skylarkin'  you  up  to 
now,  Sid  ?  Where  'd  you  git  them  clo'es  ?  " 

"  Where  'd  you  get  that  team?"  Garrard 
laughed. 

"  Well,  you  know  I  'm  thes  boun'  to  have  a 
team  'bout  this  time  o'  year,  when  that  old 
apple-tree  by  the  smoke-'ouse  gits  ready  fer 
business ;  so  I  went  to  work  an'  borrid  the 
mare  from  Rufe  Wright  an'  the  mule  from 
Uncle  Jesse  Craik.  Th'  ain't  no  sich  June- 
apple  in  the  county  as  that  airn,  but  I  mis 
doubt  me  ef  it  pays  fer  the  time  an*  labor. 
I  ganny !  it  took  me  mighty  nigh  a  week  to 
borry  that  team  this  year.  Say,  Sid,  keep  yo' 
eye  on  'em  while  I  step  in  an'  see  'f  I  c'n  trade 
Hi  Jaynes  a  bushel  of  apples  fer  a  jug  of 
m'lasses.  Uncle  Jesse  Craik  an'  Rufe  Wright 
don't  work  overly  well  together  yit  —  been 
a-shyin'  at  each  other  all  mornin',  seems  like. 
Though  you  cain't  blame  arry  one  of  'em  spe 
cially,  fer  they  do  look  ruther  skeercrowy  to 
be  drove  together  'thout  blinkers,  now  don't 
they?  Say,  you  oughter  seen  'em  when  they 
fus  got  a  good  look  at  each  other.  Back 
yonder  at  Carpenter's  Hill  Rufe  Wright  — 
that 's  the  mare  —  was  dozin'  along  when  she 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker    17 

happen  to  turn  her  head  an'  git  a  full-len'th 
view  of  Uncle  Jesse  Craik  —  that's  the  mule 
—  an '  she  give  one  snort  an'  lit  out  with  the 
whole  outfit  nor'-nor'east,  in  a  bee-line  fer  Inji- 
anny ;  an'  I  had  n't  no  mo'n  got  'em  back  in 
the  road  an'  straightened  out  fer  Plover  ag'in 
when  Uncle  Jesse  Craik  took  a  notion  to  see 
what  the  nation  it  was  alongside  him,  anyhow, 
an'  when  he  see  —  well,  he  thes  duck  his  head 
an'  shet  his  eyes  an'  open  his  mouf,  an'  right- 
wheel,  an'  nex'  minute  he  had  done  unlimbered 
bofe  batteries  on  the  enemy's  broadside,  an' 
ef  I  had  n't  'a'  been  mighty  lucky  lassoin'  him 
with  the  lines  no  tellin'  where  Rufe  an'  the 
rest  of  us  would  'a'  been  by  this  time.  So  you 
keep  yo'  eye  on  that  team  fer  me,  Sid.  Hi 
Jaynes,  he 's  gittin'  rich  so  fas'  he  's  too  grastin' 
to  'fode  mo'  'n  one  hitchin'-pos',  an'  that  air 
stall-fed  m'nop'list  o'  yourn,  he 's  got  a  corner 
on  that." 

"All  right,  Dunk,"  laughed  Garrard.  "I'll 
see  that  your  span  of  '  the  plain  people'  don't 
run  away." 

Dunk  Peabody  slouched  into  the  store,  his 
hands  full  of  apples,  and  Sid  Garrard  dawdled 
down  to  the  wagon  and  swung  up  to  the  driver's 
seat,  where  he  lounged  eating  one  of  Dunk's 


1 8  The  Opponents 

apples  and  smiling  at  the  ingenuity  with  which 
Dunk  had  pieced  out  odd  ends  of  rope  and 
leather  into  the  harness  that  united  the  in 
congruous  "  Rufe  Wright "  and  "  Uncle  Jesse 
Craik." 

The  lethargy  of  approaching  noon  was  on 
the  straggling  village.  The  sun,  high  overhead, 
seemed  to  have  drawn  every  remnant  of  the 
morning's  fleecy  clouds  to  its  own  altitude, 
where,  instead  of  veiling  the  light,  each  one 
appeared  as  separate  softly  sifting  centres  of 
light,  under  whose  grateful  flood  the  earth 
basked,  lazily  outstretched.  Far  in  the  blue 
a  pair  of  great  black  wings  slowly  circled. 
Across  the  drowsy  fields  came  the  drone  of  a 
thresher,  echoed  nearer  by  the  drone  of  the 
bees  in  the  clover  by  the  roadside.  The  pigs 
had  found  a  bed  of  mire  in  the  gutter,  and  were 
grunting  fitfully  with  sensuous  content,  while 
daintily  hued  butterflies  wove  lightly  over  and 
around  them,  in  the  world-old  symbolism  of 
the  etherial's  attendance  on  the  gross.  A 
happy  heat-song  filled  the  throat  of  a  young 
pullet;  the  stillness  was  thudded  by  the  hoof- 
strokes  of  Blitzen,  impatient  of  the  flies,  and 
was  pierced  by  the  faint,  militant  cry  of  a  bee- 
martin,  himself  invisible  in  the  sky. 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker   19 

Up  and  across  the  street  Breckinridge 
Bodine,  justice  of  the  peace,  notary  public,  fire 
and  cyclone  insurance  and  rotary  churn  agent, 
as  well  as  standing  candidate  for  the  office  of 
county  court  clerk,  came  to  his  door  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  smoked  his  pipe,  and  looked  con 
templatively  out  on  the  pigs  in  their  wallow. 
Garrard  saw  him,  and  holding  up  a  handful  of 
the  fruit,  called  to  him  in  Dunk  Peabody's  sing 
song,  — 

"  Ap-puls  !  ap-puls  !  fresh  June-ap-puls  !  " 

Squire  Bodine  declined  with  a  shake  of  his 
head;  then  suddenly  recognizing  the  apple- 
vender,  removed  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  Hey,  Sid  Garrard !  "  he  laughed  across. 
"What  devilment  you  up  to  now?" 

Garrard  only  repeated  his  sing-song. 

"  Well,  fetch  me  a  half  bushel  of  'em  over 
here  and  I  '11  see  if —  " 

The  squire  did  not  finish  his  joke.  He 
paused,  his  pipe  again  out  of  his  mouth,  and 
his  gaze  directed  beyond  and  behind  Garrard. 

"  Say,  Sid,  you  know  every  girl  in  the 
county ;  who 's  that  burnin*  up  the  road  down 
yonder? " 

Garrard  turned  and  his  eyes  kindled  as  they 
rested  on  the  slender  figure  of  a  horsewoman 
riding  rapidly  toward  him. 


2O  The  Opponents 

"Never  saw  her  before,"  he  answered  the 
squire ;  "  but  she  's  at  home  on  a  horse,  ain't 
she?  Turn  your  head,  Blitzen  ;  you  'd  like  to 
see  her." 

She  dashed  up  and  stopped  in  front  of  the 
post-office,  and  before  Sid  Garrard,  who  had 
sprung  from  the  wagon,  could  proffer  his  assist 
ance,  she  had  dismounted. 

As  she  stood  holding  the  bridle  in  one  hand 
and  looking  around  for  a  place  to  hitch  the 
horse,  her  eyes  swept  from  the  warning  ears  of 
Blitzen  to  the  wagon  and  then  to  Garrard. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said.  "  Won't  you  hold  my  horse 
a  moment?  " 

The  words  were  in  the  form  of  a  request,  but 
the  tone  was  more  an  order;  not  ungracious 
or  arrogant,  but  assuming  obedience  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course. 

Garrard  touched  his  old  straw  hat  and  nodded 
compliance.  He  stepped  forward  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  bridle,  while  she,  without  looking 
at  him  twice,  went  toward  the  post-office. 

It  was  unusual  for  a  girl  not  to  look  at  Sid 
Garrard  twice,  and  unprecedented  for  one  to 
make  a  request  of  him  in  the  tone  of  an  order. 
There  was  a  touch  of  red  in  his  tanned  face 
and  an  amused  twinkle  in  his  eyes  as  he 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker   21 

watched  her  walk  up  the  steps  and  across 
the  platform  in  front  of  the  building.  But 
there  was  more  than  amusement  in  his  eyes. 

"  Gad  !  "  was  his  verdict,  "  but  she  's  a  clean- 
stepping  thoroughbred  !  "  and  his  gaze  did  not 
leave  the  doorway  through  which  she  disap 
peared  into  the  post-office. 

She  came  out  in  a  few  seconds  with  a  letter, 
which  she  opened  and  read  as  she  paused  at 
the  top  of  the  steps. 

She  was  tall,  and  there  was  something  about 
her  which  suggested  that  recently  she  might 
have  been  thin,  with  the  thinness  of  growing 
youth.  Even  yet  her  face  would  have  seemed 
a  little  thin  but  for  the  slight  flush  of  her  ride 
and  the  splendidly  colorful  warmth  of  the 
mouth,  though  the  lines  of  neck,  arms,  and 
figure,  which  a  less  well-fitting  habit  could  not 
have  concealed,  clearly  limned  no  longer  the 
thinness,  but  the  rounding  symmetry  of  youth. 

Refolding  her  letter  and  sticking  it  in  her 
bosom,  she  descended  to  the  cinder  sidewalk. 
As  she  came  up  to  him  again,  Sid  Garrard  held 
out  his  hand  to  help  her  to  mount,  and  with  a 
light  foot  she  was  quickly  in  the  saddle. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  took  out  a  little 
purse  and  began  searching  through  its  contents. 


22  The  Opponents 

Sid  Garrard  watched  her,  the  touch  of  red 
in  his  tan  deepening  and  the  light  in  his  eyes 
beaming  merrily. 

"  She  takes  me  for  Dunk  Peabody,"  was  his 
mental  verdict,  "  and  Dunk  Peabody  so  let  it 
be." 

She  handed  him  a  quarter,  and  he  accepted 
it,  but  he  swept  off  the  old  straw  hat  with  such 
a  bow  as  Dunk  Peabody  had  never  made  to 
man  or  gods. 

When  he  stood  erect  again,  she  was  gather 
ing  up  the  reins,  without  any  indication  that  she 
had  even  seen  his  magnificent  bow.  It  was 
then  that  Hugh  Letcher  galloped  up. 

"  Oh !  this  is  lucky,"  he  said  to  the  girl.  "  I 
got  through  that  business  at  Jernigan's  sooner 
than  I  had  hoped.  I  thought  maybe  I  might 
overtake  you." 

"  That  is  good,"  she  answered,  with  obvious 
pleasure.  "  So  we  may  finish  our  ride,  after 
all." 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  my  lucky  star." 

"  Thanks  to  my  letter,  which  I  lingered  to 
read." 

"  Blessed  be  the  man  who  invented  letter- 
writing  then.  Hello  !  Is  that  you,  Sid  Garrard, 
under  that  hat?" 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker  23 

"  Morning,  Hugh,"  grinned  Sid  Garrard. 

"  So  it  is  you,  is  it?  Ho  !  "  laughed  Letcher. 
"  Miss  Helm  arrived  only  yesterday  and  you 
have  met  her  already,  have  you?  You  are 
making  even  better  than  your  usual  good  time, 
are  n't  you,  Sid?  " 

"  I  merely  had  the  pleasure  of  holding  Miss 
Helm's  horse,"  Sid  explained. 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  believe  you  ever 
got  near  enough  to  a  lady  to  hold  her  horse 
without  striking  up  an  acquaintance,"  chaffed 
Letcher. 

Sid  Garrard  made  a  vain  and  ludicrous  effort 
to  summon  a  stern  expression  of  warning  to  his 
face,  while  the  girl  was  looking  from  one  man 
to  the  other,  a  picture  of  blank  bewilderment. 

Letcher  was  laughing  heartily.  "  I  do  be 
lieve,"  he  said,  "  Sid  has  been  trying  to  behave 
himself.  Miss  Helm,  is  it  possible  you  do  not 
yet  know  my  old  friend,  Sidney  Garrard,  whom 
you  have  heard  me  and  Florence  and  mother 
and  the  rest  of  us  talking  about  ever  since 
your  arrival  in  Kentucky?" 

Sid  Garrard's  hat  was  off  again,  but  his  bow 
was  less  exaggerated,  while  the  girl  went  from 
red  to  rose,  and  from  sudden  shock  to  morti 
fying  self-condemnation.  She  looked  hard  at 


24  The  Opponents 

Sid,  at  first  with  a  little  resentment,  which 
quickly  melted  into  contrition  and  a  plea  for 
mercy,  then,  as  she  marked  the  mischievous 
gleam  in  Sid's  eyes,  brightening  with  a  slight 
smile  in  her  own. 

"  Please  forgive  my  stupid  mistake,  Mr.  Gar- 
rard,"  she  begged.  "I  —  really  was  in  a  hurry, 
and  did  not  —  oh,  I  don't  know  why  I  made 
it!" 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  a  little  timidly 
yet  with  a  frank  impulse,  and  Sid  took  it  with 
a  laugh. 

"  You  could  hardly  have  helped  making  it 
under  the  circumstances,  Miss  Helm,"  he  re 
plied.  "  You  see,  Hugh,  I  'd  just  come  out  of 
the  wheat-field  and  was  watching  Dunk  Pea- 
body's  team  for  him  when  Miss  Helm  rode  up 
and  very  naturally  took  me  for  Dunk." 

"  A  very  likely  story,  Sid,  all  except  the 
wheat-field.  If  I  had  ever  heard  of  your  going 
into  a  wheat-field,  it  would  be  easier  to  believe 
you  had  come  out  of  one.  But  ride  over  to 
night,  old  man,  and  fix  up  your  explanation 
at  supper.  And  bring  your  mandolin,  or  /'// 
never  succeed  in  making  a  satisfactory  explana 
tion  to  Florence." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  answered  Sid,  as  he 


Sidney  Garrard  as  a  Money-Maker  25 

looked  at  Miss  Helm.  Then  his  eyes  fell  to 
the  silver  coin  which  he  still  held,  and  glancing 
from  it  to  her  and  noting  the  new  wave  of 
color  come  into  her  face  and  the  half-beseech 
ing,  half-defiant  look  settle  in  her  eyes,  he 
deliberately  placed  the  quarter  in  his  pocket 
and  with  another  bow  turned  to  Dunk  Peabody, 
who  was  emerging  from  the  establishment  of 
Hi  Jaynes  as  Letcher  and  Miss  Helm  rode  off. 

Sid  Garrard  stood,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  watched  the  two  figures  on  horse 
back  until  they  disappeared  over  a  hill  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Then,  as  Dunk  Pea- 
body,  who  had  been  filling  a  sack  with  apples 
and  grumbling  at  Hi  Jaynes's  "  grastingness  " 
in  a  trade,  slung  the  sack  over  his  shoulder 
and  went  back  into  the  store,  Sid  looked  across 
the  street  again  and  saw  Squire  Breckinridge 
Bodine  still  smoking  in  his  doorway,  his  fat 
cheeks  wrinkled  with  a  broad  smile  as  he  met 
Sid's  glance. 

"  Ap-puls  !  ap-puls  !  fresh  June-ap-puls  !  " 
sang  out  the  squire;  and  Sid,  grabbing  one 
from  the  wagon,  threw  it  with  close  aim  at  the 
dodging  justice,  and  jumping  on  Blitzen,  gave 
him  rein  homeward. 


Ill 

"  BENEATH   HER  FEET  " 

KATE  COCKERILL,  holding  her  skirts  with  one 
hand  and  with  the  other  fastening  at  her  belt 
the  pinks  she  had  just  gathered,  had  reached 
the  steps  of  the  veranda  when  Sid  Garrard, 
flushed  and  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  came  hastily 
through  the  hall  doorway. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,  Kit !  "  he  cried.  "  I  've 
been  looking  all  over  the  house  for  you.  Please 
do  up  this  crazy  tie  for  me." 

Kate  laughed  as  she  went  up  to  him  and 
began  deftly  adjusting  the  refractory  tie.  She 
had  a  peculiarly  cool  and  invigorating  little 
laugh,  which  had  once  come  near  causing  a 
tragedy.  Hardin  Drake,  one  of  her  suitors, 
had  said  to  Ben  Fairleigh,  another  of  her  suit 
ors,  that  he  had  always  sworn  there  was  no 
sound  this  side  of  Paradise  that  could  be  com 
pared  to  Kate  Cockerill's  laugh,  till  one  terribly 
hot  night  in  a  hotel  room,  when  his  throat  was 
cracked  with  thirst,  and  after  ringing  for  water, 


"  Beneath  her  Feet  "  27 

he  heard  the  musical  tinkle  of  the  ice  against 
the  pitcher  as  it  came  nearer  and  nearer  far 
down  the  corridor.  To  this  Ben  Fairleigh  had 
replied  that  Kate  Cockerill's  laugh  was  good 
enough  to  drink,  but  it  was  n't  ice  in  a  water- 
pitcher  ;  it  was  more  like  ice  when  stirred  in  a 
thin  glass  goblet,  with  frost  on  the  outside  and 
sugar,  fire,  and  mint  on  the  inside.  Hardin 
Drake  had  flared  up  and  announced  that  no 
gentleman  would  speak  of  a  lady  in  the  lan 
guage  of  a  guzzler,  and  be  damned  to  him ;  and 
Ben  Fairleigh  had  retorted  that  no  mollycoddle 
could  teach  him  anything  in  the  way  of  respect 
for  a  lady,  and  be  damned  to  him.  Then  there 
had  been  a  "  difficulty  "  which  had  left  both 
participants  badly  battered,  and  which  had  al 
ways  been  regarded  in  the  neighborhood  as 
suspiciously  mysterious,  as  Hardin  Drake  had 
curtly  explained  to  an  inquirer  that  the  trouble 
was  over  a  misunderstanding  about  some  short 
horns  that  he  had  bought  from  Ben,  though 
anybody  could  tell  you  that  Ben  had  never 
owned  a  short-horn ;  while  Ben  had  as  curtly 
explained  to  the  same  inquirer  that  the  mistake 
arose  over  a  game  of  cards,  when  it  was  notori 
ous  that  Hardin  did  n't  know  one  card  from 
another. 


28  The  Opponents 

Kate  Cockerill  finished  that  fateful  laugh  of 
hers  this  evening  as  Sid  held  his  chin  high ;  then 
she  stepped  back  and  surveyed  him  critically. 

"Is  it  all  right  now,  Kit?"  Sid  asked. 

"  It 's  a  masterpiece,"  she  pronounced.  "  But 
who  is  it  this  time,  Sid?  " 

"Who's  what?" 

"  Your  latest  discovery  ?    Your  new  flame  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  of  such  wild  ques 
tions,  Mistress  Impertinence?"  he  smiled  with 
boyish  swagger,  seating  himself  on  the  railing 
of  the  veranda. 

"  Because  I  have  never  known  it  to  fail  that 
when  you  come  to  me  to  get  your  cravats  tied 
you  are  just  starting  on  a  fresh  '  case.'  " 

Sid  laughed  and  blushed  a  little.  "  How 
about  your  rule  this  time,  if  I  tell  you  I  am  just 
going  over  to  the  Letchers'  to  supper?  " 

Kate  sat  down  in  a  rocker,  and  leaning 
against  the  back,  smiled  up  at  him  serenely. 

"Who's  visiting  Florence  Letcher  now?" 
she  asked. 

He  tossed  back  his  head  in  laughter,  then 
flipped  a  sprig  of  honeysuckle  at  her  before 
replying : 

"  The  latest  arrival  from  Olympus,  I  should 
say,  from  the  one  glimpse  of  her  I  Ve  had  and 


"  Beneath  her  Feet  "  29 

from  the  way  she  treads  Kentucky  farmers 
beneath  her  feet." 

"  So  bad  as  that,  and  at  first  sight  ?  And  is 
Olympus  in  Virginia?" 

"  It  must  be.  Hugh  called  her  Miss  Helm. 
Isn't  that  the  name  of  the  Staunton  school 
friend  of  Florence  Letcher's  that  she  is  always 
raving  about?  " 

"  Margaret  Helm  ?  Of  course  it  is.  Florence 
told  me  the  other  day  she  was  expecting  her. 
So  she  has  come  at  last?" 

"  At  last !  as  all  things  come  to  him  who 
waits,"  said  Sid  with  mock  solemnity. 

Kate  laughed. 

"  As  all  things  come  —  and  go,  you  mean," 
she  qualified. 

"  Other  things  may  come  and  other  things 
may  go,  but  this  —  this  is  final  and  forever," 
with  sober  voice  and  straightened  face. 

"  So  were  all  her  predecessors,"  laughed 
Kate.  "What  is  she  like,  Sid?" 

"Like?  She  isn't  like!  She  isn't  like 
anybody,  anything !  " 

41  Describe  her." 

"  It  can't  be  done.  She  came,  brand-new, 
into  the  world  long  after  language  was  invented, 
and  there  is  none  to  fit  her." 


30  The  Opponents 

"  Is  she  blonde  or  brunette?" 

"  Blonde  or  brunette !  Those  are  mere 
words,  and  poor  ones  at  that.  I  tell  you  there 
are  no  words  that  fit  her." 

"But  her  hair?" 

"  Her  hair  !  Why  did  you  speak  of  it?  The 
mere  remembrance  of  it  befuddles  me.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  would  call  it  golden 
oak,  or  cherry,  or  mahogany,  or  ebony;  but 
there  is  only  one  thing  to  call  it  if  you  want  to 
be  accurate :  call  it  her  hair  —  Margaret  Helm's 
hair." 

"How  tall  is  she?" 

"  How  tall !  O  quality  of  unstrained  mercy  ! 
When  she  stood  for  two  whole  minutes  on  Hi 
Jaynes'  platform  she  was  so  far  above  a  mortal 
holding  a  horse  on  earth  that  my  eyes  set  in 
such  an  uplifted  angle  I  have  been  seeing  only 
heaven  since." 

"  And  her  eyes  —  what  color  are  they  ?  " 

"  Her  eyes  ?  Margaret  Helm's  eyes !  I  was 
afraid  you  would  ask  me  that !  O  Kitty  Cock- 
erill,  you  talk  too  thoughtlessly.  Don't  you 
remember,  it  was  once  said  of  a  Kentucky 
orator  that  he  was  like  a  goose  paddling  on 
the  ocean,  unconscious  of  the  depths  be 
neath?  The  ocean,  now,  —  you've  seen  it, 


"Beneath  her  Feet"  31 

but  do  you  know  the  color  of  it?  I  Ve  been 
watching  that  piece  of  sky  over  yonder  where 
the  sun  has  just  set.  In  the  last  five  minutes 
it  has  been  gray,  with  a  star  or  two  shining 
through  it ;  clear  blue,  with  stars ;  clear  green, 
with  stars ;  indigo,  violet,  purple,  always  with 
the  stars;  and  now  it  is  black-and-gray,  with 
the  stars;  and  after  a  while  it  will  be  black- 
blue,  with  the  stars.  And  all  the  time  I  've 
been  watching  that  sky  I  Ve  been  thinking  of 
Margaret  Helm's  eyes,  Kit.  Now,  people  have 
been  trying  to  describe  skies  ever  since  people 
began  to  talk,  or  at  least  to  write,  but  to  this 
good  day  can  they  do  it?  And  skies  are  com 
mon,  every-day  things,  and  we  Ve  had  them 
for  centuries,  while  there  is  only  one  pair  of 
Margaret  Helm  eyes  in  the  world,  and  I 
should  n't  say  they  'd  been  here  longer  than 
twenty  years,  at  most.  Still  you  sit  calmly 
rocking  there,  Kate  Cockerill,  and  coolly  ask 
me  to  tell  you  the  color  of  Margaret  Helm's 
eyes ! " 

"  I  believe  it  is  really  beginning  worse  than 
usual,  Sid,"  she  laughed. 

"  I  won't  talk  with  you  any  more  about  her," 
he  said,  swinging  from  the  railing  to  his  feet 
"  You  '11  be  asking  me  next  to  tell  you  what 
she  wore.  Is  this  tie  still  all  right?" 


32  The  Opponents 

A  few  minutes  later  he  drove  away  to  the 
Letchers'  behind  a  spirited  trotter,  and  in  a 
trim  buggy  that  had  been  well  washed  not  an 
hour  before,  —  a  turnout  that  was  familiar  on 
every  road  in  the  county  and  to  every  pretty 
girl  within  twenty  miles.  For  in  this  country 
of  fast  roadsters  and  pretty  girls  Sid  Garrard, 
who  loved  them  both,  was  much  given  to  driv 
ing  with  them  both, — "  buggy-riding,"  as  it  was 
commonly  called,  to  the  amusement  of  North 
ern  maids  who  came  as  visitors  to  wonder  at 
the  freedom  of  a  custom  which  permitted  a  girl 
to  take  these  long  drives  with  a  man,  otherwise 
unaccompanied,  and  who  often  remained  to 
acquiesce  and  even  rejoice  in  that  custom. 

There  was  no  buggy  in  the  neighborhood 
that  was  held  in  more  favor  by  the  young 
women  than  Sid  Garrard's ;  and  its  owner,  with 
a  fair  companion  beside  him  and  with  a  sure 
hand  on  the  reins,  was  ever  ready  to  race  a 
rival  or  drop  behind  a  party,  to  speed  anywhere 
or  jog  nowhere,  to  pull  his  horse  to  a  walk 
under  long  stretches  of  shade,  or  to  clip  down 
the  white,  moonlit  turnpike  with  laughter  and 
song. 

As  Sid  drove  up  to  the  Letchers'  and  threw 
the  reins  to  a  negro  who  took  Sid's  seat  in  the 


"Beneath  her  Feet"  33 

buggy  and  trotted  off  to  the  barn,  it  was  at  the 
hour  when  the  spell  that  follows  a  summer  sun 
set  was  on  the  earth ;  when  there  was  a  hush 
of  sound,  an  arrest  of  motion,  and  the  going  of 
day  and  the  coming  of  night  were  suspended 
beyond  the  rim  of  the  horizon,  while  the  serene 
cavity  between  the  calm  of  the  earth  and  the 
calm  of  the  sky  was  rilled  by  the  light  that  was 
neither  of  the  day  nor  night,  and  that  seemed 
to  come  from  no  central  source,  but  from  the 
tender  blue  of  the  dome  overhead  and  from  the 
limpid  green  of  its  lower  circumference. 

Old  Shelby  Letcher,  grizzled  and  lean,  was 
seated  in  one  of  the  chairs  that  were  grouped 
on  the  front  lawn.  He  looked  up  from  his 
newspaper  and  waved  it  with  a  short  jerk  of 
welcome  to  Sid  as  he  approached.  A  gray- 
blue  wreath  of  wood-smoke  rose  from  the  rear 
of  the  plain  parallelogram  of  brick  walls,  shin 
gle  roof,  and  wooden  veranda  of  the  Letcher 
homestead.  From  the  same  direction  came 
the  muffled  beat  of  a  rolling-pin,  and  this,  with 
the  querulous  plaint  of  a  belated  chicken  anx 
iously  seeking  its  roost,  was  less  an  infraction 
than  an  accentuation  of  the  universal  stillness. 

"  Well,  Sid,  how  are  you  ?  Have  a  seat," 
Shelby  Letcher  greeted  Sid,  with  a  gesture 
3 


34  The  Opponents 

that  included  the  entire  collection  of  chairs  and 
benches  on  the  lawn;  "have  —  well,  I  came 
mighty  nigh  getting  off  that  joke  they  used  to 
tell  on  that  Congressman  down  in  Alabama. 
You  remember?  He  was  what  the  darkeys 
call  one  of  those  '  pompious '  chaps,  who  show 
from  top-knot  to  spur  the  cock-of-the-walk 
opinion  they  have  of  themselves.  He  stepped 
into  a  State  office  one  day  and  introduced 
himself. 

'"I  am  James  Madison  McCrory,'  said  he. 
The  official  rose  to  the  occasion.  '  Pleased  to 
meet  you,  Mr.  McCrory,'  he  replied.  '  Take  a 
chair,  sir;  take  two  chairs.' 

"  Now  you  Ve  got  such  a  conquering-hero 
look  on  you  this  evening,  Sid,"  the  old  gentle 
man  concluded,  "  I  was  about  to  ask  you  to 
take  several  chairs." 

Sid  was  a  favorite  of  Shelby  Letcher,  who 
was  fond  of  joking  him,  and  whose  jokes  were 
always  received  in  good  part  by  Sid.  But  the 
young  fellow's  color  grew  a  little  warmer  as  he 
sat  down,  and  there  was  an  unaccustomed  self- 
conscious  note  in  his  laugh  as  he  responded : 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Letcher;  I  will  take  two 
chairs  —  for  me  and  my  mandolin." 

"Me  and  my  mandolin,  hey?     Hum!   from 


"  Beneath  her  Feet "  35 

all  I  can  hear,  that  is  a  combination  that  re 
quires,  off  and  on,  about  all  the  chairs  in  the 
county.  But  what 's  going  on  ?  Have  you  been 
to  Yardley  lately?" 

"  Not  for  two  or  three  weeks." 

"Then  you  don't  know  the  straight  of  this 
talk  about  the  Republicans  putting  out  a  full 
county  ticket  at  the  next  election  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  but  from  what  I  Ve  heard,  that 
seems  to  be  the  programme." 

"By  the  Lord!  what  are  we  coming  to? 
Why,  we  '11  be  having  Republicans  running  for 
the  Legislature  and  for  Circuit  Judge  next! 
Now,  what  would  you  think  of  that?  " 

"  It  would  n't  do  them  any  good  to  run, 
would  it?" 

"  Good  ?  But  would  it  do  us  any  good  ? 
Think  of  the  impudence  of  the  thing !  It 's 
all  that  fellow  Kirkland's  doing.  He  's  feeling 
his  oats  from  the  Federal  bin  too  much.  He 
thinks,  because  he  's  got  a  Government  office 
and  a  few  of  his  henchmen  are  riding  around 
as  deputy  marshals,  he  can  foist  a  Republican 
party  on  this  county !  " 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  these  things,  Mr. 
Letcher,"  Sid  returned,  pulling  a  spear  of  grass 
from  its  sheath,  "  but  don't  you  think  it  might 


36  The  Opponents 

be  an  advantage  to  have  two  good  political 
parties  in  the  county?" 

"Two  good  political  parties?  Maybe  so. 
But  what  the  Tom  Walker  has  that  got  to  do 
with  the  Republican  party?  I  agree  with  you, 
Sid,  you  don't  know  much  about  these  things, 
—  you  don't  know  any  more  about  them  than 
I  know  about  that  banjo  of  yours." 

It  was  in  a  section  of  the  State  where  there 
had  been  only  one  political  party  since  the  old 
days  of  the  Whigs  and  the  Democrats,  and 
though  Kentucky  had  been  pretty  evenly  di 
vided  in  sympathy  between  the  Northern  and 
Southern  factors  of  the  civil  war,  Luttroll 
County  had  been  almost  wholly  pro-Southern, 
and  since  the  reorganization  of  the  Democratic 
party  in  the  State,  after  the  restoration  of  peace, 
had  known  no  other  partisan  affiliation.  It  was 
not  fashionable  —  by  many  it  was  not  consid 
ered  respectable  —  to  be  a  Republican  in  Lut 
troll  County,  and  while  there  were  a  few  white 
men  who  voted  the  Republican  ticket  at  Na 
tional  elections,  the  Republicans  had  neither 
party  organization  nor  spirit  in  the  county. 
Shelby  Letcher  was  a  Democrat  of  Democrats, 
at  least  in  name  and  action,  and  it  was  his 
pride  to  be  called,  as  he  sometimes  was  by 


"  Beneath  her  Feet "  37 

the  Yardley  Gazette,  the  Old  Hickory  of  Lut- 
troll.  Indeed,  with  his  gaunt  form,  his  sharp 
visage,  his  keen,  deep-set  eyes,  his  small  head, 
and  wiry  shock  of  pepper-and-salt-colored  hair, 
he  had  known  the  pleasure  more  than  once  of 
being  likened  in  appearance  to  Andrew  Jack 
son  ;  and  sometimes  he  swore  "  by  the  Eternal." 
He  would  have  resented  now  the  imputation 
that  he  was  not  a  Democrat  as  vigorously  as 
he  would  have  resented  the  imputation  that  he 
was  not  a  white  man. 

Sid  Garrard  lifted  his  head  quickly  as  a  light 
step  came  from  the  house,  and  he  looked  be 
yond  the  figure  of  Florence  Letcher  walking 
toward  him,  but  he  looked  in  vain.  No  one 
was  with  Florence,  no  one  was  following  her ; 
and  that  was  not  as  Sid  Garrard  wished  or  had 
expected. 

Sid  talked  almost  as  freely  and  confiden 
tially  to  Florence  Letcher  as  he  talked  to  Kate 
Cockerill,  and  he  liked  her,  as  a  chum,  as  well 
as  he  liked  Hugh  Letcher  himself.  Florence 
was  a  girl  to  inspire  such  liking.  She  took  an 
unaffected  interest  in  Sid  and  his  gallantries. 
She  was  jolly,  companionable,  genuine.  She 
was  a  true  daughter  of  old  Shelby  Letcher, 
without  his  occasional  simulation  of  austerity. 


38  The  Opponents 

She  had  his  cheerful  temperament,  his  small 
head,  his  unmanageable  hair,  and,  more  strik 
ing  than  other  resemblance,  his  shrewd,  smil 
ing  eyes,  —  eyes  which  in  the  father  seemed 
to  smile  even  in  his  austere  moments,  as  if  at 
his  own  posing,  and  which  in  the  daughter 
seemed  to  smile  because  it  is  as  natural  and 
necessary  to  smile  as  it  is  to  breathe. 

She  sat  with  the  two  men  on  the  lawn,  soon 
directing  the  talk  from  politics  and  amusing 
her  father  with  the  story  of  Sid's  adventure  of 
the  morning. 

"  Mistook  Sid  for  a  wagon-driver,  did  she?" 
the  old  gentleman  commented.  "  Well,  I  don't 
reckon  a  pretty  girl  could  stay  around  here 
long  without  learning  the  difference  between 
a  wagon-driver  and  a  buggy-driver,  could  she, 
Sid?" 

Hugh  Letcher  joined  them  soon,  and  Mrs. 
Letcher  came  out  on  the  veranda  for  a  moment 
and  spoke  a  word  of  greeting  to  Sid ;  but  his 
repeated  glances  toward  the  house  were  unre 
warded.  Margaret  Helm  did  not  appear,  and 
this,  trivial  as  it  was  in  itself,  was  not  to  his 
liking.  He  had  arrived  a  little  ahead  of  time 
in  his  desire  for  a  second  meeting  with  Mar 
garet  Helm,  but  he  might  as  well  have  saved 


"  Beneath  her  Feet "  39 

his  mare's  wind.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
Margaret  yet  felt  some  constraint  or  embar 
rassment  from  her  mistake  of  the  morning? 
If  that  was  the  cause  of  her  delay  in  showing 
herself  this  evening,  Sid  Garrard  could  more 
than  forgive  it.  Indeed,  he  looked  forward 
with  satisfaction  to  the  pleasure  of  putting  her 
at  her  ease,  for  he  knew  that  an  acquaintance 
begun  under  such  conditions  is  often  better 
begun  and  farther  advanced  than  by  weeks  of 
conventional  intercourse. 


IV 


"VERY,  VERY  NICE,   OR  HORRID" 

IT  was  not  until  they  went  in  to  supper  that  he 
saw  Margaret.  She  was  standing  at  the  side 
board,  where  she  was  just  completing,  as  Mrs. 
Letcher  explained,  the  famous  Helm  salad. 

So  she  had  remained  indoors  to  make  a  salad, 
Sid  reflected.  That  was  less  to  his  liking  than 
his  first  assumption,  that  she  had  remained 
indoors  to  avoid  him. 

Nor  was  there  the  slightest  indication  of  con 
straint  or  embarrassment  as  she  turned  from 
the  sideboard  to  speak  to  Sid. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Garrard,"  she  quietly 
said,  smiling  pleasantly  over  the  ladle  which  she 
held,  as  if  he  were  any  ordinary  acquaintance. 

It  was  altogether  different  from  the  meeting 
that  Sid  had  anticipated.  There  was  no  occa 
sion  for  him  to  be  genially  magnanimous  and 
put  her  at  her  ease.  Worse  than  that,  there 
was  no  opening  for  anything  like  that  mutually 
assumed  attitude  of  frivolous  familiarity,  with 


"Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid"     41 

its  only  partially  concealed  possibilities  of  seri 
ous  developments,  often  inspired  by  some  such 
contretemps  as  their  first  meeting. 

"  It 's  a  poor  sort  of  girl  that  has  no  coquetry 
about  her,"  was  Sid's  verdict  as  he  took  his 
seat  at  the  table,  and  his  dissatisfaction  at  that 
particular  moment  was  increased  by  his  knowl 
edge  that  instead  of  finding  any  evidence  of 
self-consciousness  in  Margaret  Helm,  he  was 
himself  a  little  self-conscious.  That  was  a  new 
feeling  for  Sid  Garrard  in  the  presence  of  any 
girl. 

But  before  the  supper  was  over  he  revised 
his  verdict  as  to  Margaret  Helm's  lack  of 
coquetry.  "  It 's  natural  enough  with  her  when 
she  likes,"  he  concluded.  "  She  carries  it  very 
well  with  Hugh,  and  she  's  a  genius  when  she 
gives  old  Shelby  Letcher  a  touch  of  her 
mettle." 

To  Sid  Garrard  it  was  not  a  satisfactory 
supper.  He  was  seated  between  Mrs.  Letcher 
and  Florence,  while  Margaret  Helm  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  between  Shelby  Letcher 
and  Hugh.  Sid,  therefore,  had  a  good  view  of 
her,  but  he  had  little  more  that  he  would  have 
expected  of  any  girl  who  knew  how  to  improve 
agreeably  such  an  opportunity  as  that  offered 


42  The  Opponents 

by  the  unconventional  meeting  of  Margaret 
and  himself.  Most  of  the  talk  at  the  table  was 
general;  certainly  nothing  that  Margaret  said 
to  him,  even  in  answer  to  one  or  two  direct 
questions  of  his  own,  was  addressed  any  the 
less  to  the  others  than  to  him.  He  was  con 
sequently  quieter  than  was  his  wont. 

Once,  however,  he  turned  to  Florence  and 
asked: 

"  Tell  me,  what  do  you  call  that  dress  Miss 
Helm  has  on  ?  " 

"  The  name  of  the  material,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,  yes,  of  course ;  what  is  it 
made  of,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Organdie,"  smiled  Florence. 

"Organdie?  Seems  to  me  I've  heard  of 
that  sort  of  dress  before,  but  this  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  saw  one." 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  n't,"  she  laughed  softly. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  he  reasserted ;  "  I  noticed  it 
almost  as  soon  as  I  saw  her  standing  over 
there  by  the  sideboard,  and  I  noticed  it  par 
ticularly  when  she  walked  across  to  take  her 
seat  at  the  table." 

"  That  was  because  Margaret  is  one  of  those 
girls  who  give  distinction  to  their  clothes.  But 
you  've  been  seeing  organdie  dresses  all  your 


"  Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid  "     43 

life.  Kate  has  several,  and  I  have  on  one 
now." 

"No?" 

He  turned  his  head  and  stared  at  her,  red 
dening  a  little  and  grinning  cheerfully. 

"  Precisely  like  Margaret's,"  she  assured  him, 
"  except  that  hers  has  a  green  figure  and  mine 
a  pink." 

"  Well,  I  never  did  know  much  about  dresses, 
anyway,"  he  surrendered ;  "  but  even  you  also 
sometimes  make  mistakes  about  them.  Now, 
hers  is  n't  green,  because  it 's  blue." 

"  It  is  n't  blue,  because  it 's  green." 

"  But  how  can  it  be,  when  you  know  green 
always  makes  one  look  ghastly  ?  " 

"  There  are  different  greens.  You  Ve  never 
noticed  that  the  green  of  the  trees  and  plants 
makes  any  one  look  ghastly,  have  you  ?  " 

"  By  George  !  I  never  thought  of  that ! " 

"  It  must  be  because  it  is  a  living  green. 
And  Margaret  is  a  girl  who  can  wear  any  shade 
of  green  because  she  makes  even  the  deadliest 
colors  living  colors." 

"That's  a  compliment  to  pay  a  girl!  I'll 
save  it  and  get  it  off  to  her  some  day  as  if  it 
were  my  own." 

The  one   time  when   Margaret   turned   her 


44  The  Opponents 

eyes  and  words  to  Sid  Garrard  with  a  personal 
directness  was  with  what  was  clearly  intended 
as  mild  disapprobation.  Shelby  Letcher  had 
been  telling  some  stories  on  Uncle  Minus,  the 
old  negro  who  tended  the  vegetable  garden 
and  kept  the  kitchen  supplied  with  wood. 

"  Isn't  he  delightful?"  Margaret  laughed. 

"  Uncle  Minus  and  Margaret  are  already  fast 
friends,"  Florence  explained.  "  She  spent 
nearly  an  hour  this  evening  sitting  on  the 
woodpile  and  listening  to  Uncle  Minus's  talk 
while  he  was  chopping  the  stove-wood." 

So,  Sid  reflected,  that  was  where  Miss  Helm 
had  been  while  he  was  waiting  for  her  on  the 
lawn. 

"  He  was  telling  me  about  what  he  called 
his  sums,"  Margaret  said. 

"  Then  he  was  in  his  element,"  Shelby 
Letcher  proclaimed.  "  The  old  fellow  cer 
tainly  has  remarkable  powers  in  working  out 
all  sorts  of  difficult  problems  in  mathematics, 
though  he  does  not  know  one  figure  from  an 
other.  He  can  shut  his  eyes  and  do  in  his 
head  sums  which  I  could  never  do  with  a  ream 
of  paper,  and  which  neither  of  my  children, 
though  I  've  given  them  both  a  good  education, 
could  solve  with  the  aid  of  their  algebra  or 


"  Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid  "     45 

calculus.  How  he  does  it  nobody  knows ;  but 
he  does  it,  and  it  is  marvellous.  He  has  been 
written  up  in  the  newspapers,  and  a  museum 
man  came  out  here  once  to  try  to  get  him  to 
give  public  exhibitions." 

"  He  's  a  long  way  ahead  of  the  educated 
pig  or  the  automatic  chess-player,"  said  Hugh. 

"  I  Ve  never  yet  known  any  one  to  give  him 
a  problem  he  could  n't  solve,"  added  Shelby 
Letcher. 

"  He  confessed  to  me  to-day  that  there  was 
one,"  Margaret  declared,  "  and  I  think  it  is 
shameful,"  with  an  open  smile  of  reproach 
levelled  at  Sid  Garrard,  which  made  him  feel 
a  culprit,  yet  content  to  be  a  culprit  since  his 
guilt  compelled  a  personal  recognition  from 
this  indifferent  young  woman  across  the  table. 

"  What  could  that  have  possibly  been  ? " 
asked  Shelby  Letcher. 

"  I  think  it  a  really  distressing  case,"  with 
the  same  half-serious  smile,  which  was  now, 
however,  no  longer  directed  pointedly  on  Sid. 
•'  He  was  telling  me  to-day  that  nobody  had 
ever  given  him  a  sum  which  he  could  not  work 
out,  until  about  a  year  ago,  when  Mr.  Garrard 
gave  him  one  that  had  '  stumped '  him  ever 
since." 


46  The  Opponents 

"Mr.  Garrard?  Who— Sid?"  interjected 
Shelby  Letcher. 

"  Yes,  sir  —  Mr.  Sid,  Uncle  Minus  called 
him.  He  says  it  has  pestered  him  a  heap; 
that  he  lies  awake  night  after  night  trying  to 
think  it  out,  and  that  often  he  is  des  bleedzed 
to  stop  in  his  tracks  a  whole  spell  in  de  middle 
of  his  work  and  wrastle  wid  dat  sum." 

"  The  old  rapscallion !  "  laughed  Shelby 
Letcher.  "  Well,  I  can  testify  to  his  stopping 
in  the  middle  of  his  work.  You  can  see  him 
almost  any  sunny  day  out  there  in  the  garden 
standing  stock-still,  propped  up  on  the  handle 
of  his  hoe.  But  he  don't  seem  to  be  wrastling 
with  anything.  He  seems  to  be  asleep  usually." 

"  He  says,"  Margaret  continued,  "  that  he 
has  n't  had  a  good  night's  sleep  nor  done  a 
good  day's  work  since  Mr.  Garrard  gave  him 
that  sum,  but  that  he  knows  he  can  find  the 
answer,  and  is  going  to  do  it  yet,  even  if  he 
has  to  quit  taking  time  to  sleep  and  eat  at  all." 

"  And  work,"  added  Hugh. 

"And  what  was  the  sum?"  asked  Shelby 
Letcher.  "  Did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  after  insisting  that  if  I  knew  the 
answer  I  was  not  to  enlighten  him.  The  prob 
lem,  in  his  own  words,  was  this :  '  A  man,  he 


"Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid"     47 

went  up  in  a  b'loon.  Atter  while  de  man,  he 
shot  off  his  pistol.  Well,  suh,  de  bullit  en  de 
soun'  uv  de  pistol,  dey  bofe  hit  de  groun'  at  de 
ve'y  same  time.  How  high  wuz  de  b'loon? ' ' 

"  Sid,"  said  Shelby  Letcher,  after  the  round 
of  laughter  with  which  this  was  received, 
"  I  '11  have  to  forbid  you  associating  with  my 
negroes  if  you  are  going  to  disable  them  with 
such  problems  as  that." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Mr.  Garrard  ought  to 
go  to  Uncle  Minus  and  confess  that  it  was  only 
a  joke?" 

Margaret  began  the  sentence  as  if  addressing 
it  to  Shelby  Letcher  and  ended  it  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  Sid  Garrard. 

Sid,  who  had  laughed  heartily  at  her  excel 
lent  imitation  of  Minus,  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Helm  !  Uncle  Minus  would 
never  forgive  me  now,  and  there  's  too  good  a 
friendship  between  us  to  be  sacrificed  in  that 
way." 

Afterwards  it  occurred  to  him  to  wonder 
why  Miss  Helm  herself,  taking  Minus's  troubles 
so  to  heart,  had  not  explained  to  the  old  fellow 
the  trick  that  had  been  played  on  him,  and  he 
finally  decided  that  she  had  not  done  so  be 
cause  of  a  delicate  consideration  for  the  man 


48  The  Opponents 

who  had  played  the  trick.  It  was  a  little  thing, 
but  it  was  more  than  a  little  significant  of  her 
character,  was  his  verdict.  "  That  girl,"  he 
concluded,  "  is  as  fine  as  she  looks." 

After  supper  there  were  smoking  and  chat 
ting  on  the  veranda.  Sid  and  Hugh  played  a 
little  on  the  mandolins;  two  or  three  young 
men  called ;  and  a  few  minutes  later  Florence 
slipped  through  the  open  parlor  window  to  the 
piano,  beckoning  Sid  to  follow,  and  soon  to 
the  music  of  piano  and  mandolin  couples  were 
waltzing  through  the  long  hall  and  wide  parlor. 
Margaret  was  in  great  demand  as  a  partner, 
though  hardly  more  than  pink-cheeked  Mrs. 
Letcher,  who  insisted  that  dancing  kept  her 
young.  Even  old  Shelby  Letcher,  who  smoked 
and  looked  on  from  the  veranda,  finally  knocked 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  scraped  gallantly 
up  to  Margaret. 

"  As  Minus  says,"  he  bowed,  "  I  have  n't 
4  shook  my  foot '  for  twenty  years,  but  I  'd 
confess  myself  an  ungalvanizable  mummy  if  I 
couldn't  turn  a  waltz  with  such  a  dancer  as 
this  lady." 

Margaret's  pleased,  girlish  laugh  and  cour 
tesy,  so  different  from  the  dignity  of  her  manner 
to  himself,  was  not  lost  on  Sid  Garrard. 


"Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid"     49 

"There's  one  thing  certain,  Florence,"  he 
abruptly  remarked :  "  a  fellow  never  is  in  such 
high  favor  among  your  sex  as  when  he  is  a 
very  young  boy  or  a  very  old  man." 

Florence  turned  her  head  to  him  with  a 
quick  laugh. 

"  Then  what  have  you  to  complain  of,  Sid  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  at  that  most  uninteresting  age 
to  you  all,  twenty-five." 

"  Don't  tell  your  age  then,  Sid,"  she  confi 
dentially  advised,  "  and  don't  tell  the  girls 
you  think  yourself  uninteresting  to  us :  they 
would  n't  believe  you." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  believed  it  myself  not 
so  long  ago." 

"  Who  is  she  this  time,  Sid,  and  what  has 
she  been  doing  to  you?"  with  affected  sym 
pathy. 

"  Oh,  let  up  on  that  sort  of  thing,  Florence. 
Do  you  suppose  a  fellow  never  outgrows 
anything?" 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  outgrow  things, 
Sid.  We  could  n't  do  without  you,  just  as 
you  are." 

He  played  waltz  after  waltz  with  Florence, 
his  eyes  following  the  lithe  grace  of  Margaret's 
form  as  she  danced  from  parlor  to  hall  and  his 
4 


50  The  Opponents 

ears  intent  for  every  note  of  her  mellow  laugh 
ter  as  she  disappeared  beyond  the  line  of  his 
vision  in  the  hall  or  on  the  veranda.  Finally 
he  sprang  from  his  chair,  shoving  Hugh  into 
it.  "  Play  awhile,"  he  said,  "  and  let  me  try  a 
round  or  two." 

He  went  straight  over  to  Margaret  Helm, 
tapped  the  shoulder  of  the  man  she  was  danc 
ing  with,  and  with  hardly  an  interruption  of  the 
waltz,  took  his  place  as  he  stepped  aside. 

"  I  see  you  have  already  become  reconciled 
to  our  custom  of  '  breaking  in,' "  he  said, 
"  though  you  did  seem  rather  surprised  when 
Bob  Nixon  first  tried  it  with  you  to-night." 

"  Did  you  notice  that  ?  "  she  smiled.  "  Though 
I  had  heard  of  the  custom,  I  was  surprised,  at 
first,  by  its  novelty  and  abruptness." 

"  I  could  see  it  was  new  to  you." 

"  Yes ;  it  was  my  first  experience." 

"  I  cannot  understand  why,  even  if  the  cus 
tom  was  unknown  there  before,  it  did  not  ori 
ginate  instantly  and  spontaneously  wherever 
you  have  danced." 

"  Evidently,"  and  there  was  an  indulgent 
curve  of  the  tantalizing  lips,  "  you  have  other 
customs  here  not  so  exceptional  as  '  breaking 
in.'  " 


"Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid"     51 

"Yes;  we  are  given  to  speaking  the  truth 
freely  and  fearlessly." 

She  did  not  seem  to  consider  it  worth  a  reply, 
and  he  guided  her  through  the  hall  to  the 
veranda. 

"  I  had  begun  to  think,"  he  said,  "  that  if  I 
was  to  see  anything  of  you  again  I  should 
probably  have  to  hang  around  the  post-office 
and  take  my  chance  of  another  opportunity  to 
hold  your  horse." 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  before  she 
replied,  and  there  was  a  play  about  her  lips 
which  he  knew  was  bewitching,  even  though  he 
doubted  that  its  meaning  was  entirely  flattering 
to  himself. 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  she  said ;  "  for  I  am 
sure  you  dance  quite  as  well  as  you  hold 
horses." 

The  response  was  another  disappointment  to 
Sid.  There  was  nothing  in  the  tone  or  in  the 
words  to  indicate  that  she  realized  how  com 
pletely  the  first  formal  barriers  to  a  delightful 
intimacy  had  been,  or  should  have  been,  de 
molished  by  the  manner  of  their  meeting  at 
the  post-office.  He  had  even  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  with  the  purpose  of  introducing  as 
an  exhibit  accompanying  his  next  remarks  the 


52  The  Opponents 

coin  which  she  had  given  him,  but  as  she  spoke 
he  withdrew  his  hand,  empty.  Clearly  such 
remarks  would  be,  at  least  for  the  present, 
wasted.  He  restrained  them  and  forced  a 
platitude. 

"You  are  fond  of  dancing?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said,  her  foot  tapping  the  floor 
and  the  rhythm  of  the  waltz  seeming  to  pulse 
to  the  very  tips  of  the  ribbons  at  her  waist  and 
throat,  "  is  there  any  one  who  is  not?  " 

Mrs.  Letcher  appeared  in  the  door,  laughing 
and  fanning,  after  a  waltz  with  Nixon.  The 
impetus  of  the  music  was  still  in  her  motion ; 
she  held  out  her  hands  to  Margaret;  in  an 
instant  the  two  women  were  in  each  other's 
arms  and  were  waltzing  the  length  of  the 
veranda. 

Sid,  with  a  laugh,  caught  Nixon  and  swung 
into  the  measure. 

"  I  say,  Nix,"  he  asked,  "  is  the  New 
Woman  to  dispense  with  man  even  in  the 
dance?" 

As  he  drove  home,  his  mare  was  allowed  to 
pick  her  own  way.  The  reins  were  relaxed  in 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  twisted 
abstractedly  an  unlighted  cigar  between  his 
teeth.  The  evening  had  not  been  what  it  should 


"Very,  Very  Nice,  or  Horrid"    53 

have  been.  His  acquaintance  with  Margaret 
Helm  had  not  advanced  as  he  had  expected  it 
to  do. 

"  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  time  last  night, 
Sid?"  Kate  Cockerill  asked  at  breakfast. 

Sid  carefully  buttered  a  roll  before  he  re 
plied  : 

"  You  know  you  wanted  me  to  try  to  describe 
her  yesterday,  Kit." 

"Her?" 

"  Miss  Margaret  Helm.  You  questioned  me 
about  her  complexion,  her  height,  her  hair, 
her  eyes.  But  you  omitted  the  most  impor 
tant  item  —  her  mouth.  If  I  could  describe 
her  mouth,  I  might  describe  Margaret  Helm. 
It  is  of  many  shapes,  that  play  one  into 
another.  It  is  rather  large.  Its  color  is  a 
warm  rose.  And,  then,  it  is  a  mouth  which 
always  seems  to  be  saying  something,  or  to 
have  just  said  something,  even  when  she 
is  not  talking.  Some  of  these  writers  com 
pare  mouths  to  bows.  Well,  hers  sometimes 
looks  like  the  prettiest  bow  just  after  it  has 
shot  at  you  its  keenest  arrow.  So  far  as  I 
know,  she  never  really  said  any  such  thing, 
but  my  most  distinct  memory  of  her  mouth 
now  is  that  it  had  just  addressed  me  in  some 


54  The  Opponents 

such  words  as  these :  '  Little  boys  should  be 
good!'" 

"  Oh  !  "  laughed  Kate.  "  I  am  going  to  call 
on  her  at  once  and  see  for  myself.  I  'm  sure 
from  your  account  of  her  that  she  is  either 
very,  very  nice,  or  horrid." 


A  HOUSE  IS   PAINTED 

KATE  called  that  day,  and  Sid  accompanied 
her. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  as  they  drove  away,  "  I 
don't  think  I  need  to  ask  you  whether  you 
found  her  very,  very  nice,  or  horrid." 

"  No ;  I  really  believe,  Sid,  she  is  as  nice  as 
you  imagined  the  others  —  at  first." 

"  There  are  no  others." 

"  There  never  are  !  " 

"  I  'm  glad,  Kit,  that  I  'm  not  disappointed  in 
you :  I  should  have  been  disappointed  in  you 
if  you  had  not  found  her  nice.  I  don't  care  to 
admit  the  right  of  any  one  but  myself  to  find 
her  horrid." 

"  And  I  'm  glad  that  you  're  glad  you  're  not 
disappointed  in  me.  She  impresses  me  as  a 
girl  that  women  and  the  nicest  men  will  al 
ways  think  nice." 

"  Nice  !  nice  !  What  a  glib  little  word,  and 
what  a  lot  of  things  not  in  the  dictionary  you 


56  The  Opponents 

women   mean    by  it!      And   how  easily  you 
prove  that  I  'm  not  one  of  the  nicest  men  !  " 

"  I  don't  see." 

"Don't   I  reserve   the    right    to   think   her 
horrid?" 

"  But  were  n't  you  glad  that  I  was  not  disap 
pointed  in  her?" 

"  I  have  always  struggled  under  the  handi 
cap  of  a  too  clever  sister." 

Thus  began  a  summer  that  had  been  alto 
gether  unprecedented  in  the  life  of  Sidney  Gar- 
rard.  From  his  boyhood  regarded  almost  as 
one  of  the  Letcher  family,  few  were  the  days 
after  Margaret  Helm's  coming  when  he  did  not 
take  advantage  of  these  terms  of  intimacy. 
"  Come  oftener  and  stay  longer,"  had  immemo- 
rially  been  a  phrase  which  Shelby  Letcher 
employed  on  the  departure  of  visitors  whom 
he  liked.  It  had  been  addressed  to  Sid  many 
a  time,  but  not  until  this  summer  had  he  ever 
been  impelled  momentarily  to  differentiate  it 
from  others  of  Mr.  Letcher's  stock  phrases, 
such  as,  "  We  're  needing  rain,"  or  "  The  worst 
Democrat  is  better  than  the  best  Republican." 
Now,  however,  as  Sid  heard  the  familiar  vale 
diction,  on  more  than  one  occasion  he  glanced 
into  the  deep-set  eyes  of  the  old  gentleman  in 


A  House  is  Painted  57 

search  of  a  twinkle  of  new  significance,  as  ready 
to  meet  it,  if  he  had  found  it,  with  an  answer 
ing  twinkle  of  frank  comprehension. 

But,  much  as  he  saw  of  the  Letchers,  he  saw 
far  less  of  Margaret  Helm  than  he  wished  to 
see  —  or,  at  least,  far  less  in  the  way  he  wished 
to  see  her.  He  found  little  opportunity  to  mo 
nopolize  her,  as  he  had  always  inclined  to  mo 
nopolize  the  girl  he  liked  best,  or  thought  he 
liked  best,  for  the  time.  When  he  was  in  Mar 
garet's  company,  others  usually  shared  that 
privilege.  Hugh  and  Florence  were  to  be 
taken  into  consideration.  Mrs.  Letcher  still 
accounted  herself,  and  was  accounted  by  them, 
one  of  "  the  young  people."  Even  old  Shelby 
Letcher,  prone  as  he  had  always  been  to  talk 
politics,  seemed  more  partial  than  ever  to  Sid's 
society  since  Sid's  society  now  usually  included 
Margaret  Helm's  society.  Besides,  the  Letch 
ers'  had  long  been  such  a  popular  resort  among 
the  young  folks  of  the  neighborhood  that  old 
Shelby  had  dubbed  his  house  "  Letcher  Tav 
ern,"  and  since  Margaret's  coming  this  popu 
larity  had  so  increased  that  Shelby  canvassed 
the  advisability  of  expanding  Letcher  Tavern 
into  Letcher  Caravansary. 

Letcher  Tavern  was  now  the  centre  of  much 


58  The  Opponents 

gayety,  and  Sid  Garrard  and  his  mandolin  per 
force  contributed  their  part,  notwithstanding 
his  preference  for  a  quieter  summer.  Here 
originated  many  picnics  and  excursions  through 
the  countryside.  Here  were  tennis  tourna 
ments,  garden  parties,  house  parties.  Always 
when  nothing  else  was  doing  there  were 
evening  callers,  many  of  whom  came  to  supper 
and  some  of  whom  stayed  to  breakfast.  Sid 
Garrard  accepted  the  situation,  whereas  he  had 
formerly  been  accustomed  to  make  it.  He 
was  not  contented  with  it,  yet  he  preferred 
it  to  any  which  he  was  now  able  to  make. 
His  confidence  in  his  powers  and  resources 
suffered.  He  was  no  more  a  monopolist  than 
were  any  of  the  other  young  men  who  fre 
quented  Letcher  Tavern.  He  had  succeeded 
in  securing  but  one  "  buggy-ride"  with  Mar 
garet  Helm  alone  all  that  summer. 

But  another  and  different  pleasure  was  some 
times  his,  thanks  to  Kate  Cockerill.  That  was 
the  responsibility,  the  dignity,  the  new  attitude 
of  consideration  imposed  upon  him  as  host  to 
Margaret  in  his  own  house.  Margaret  and 
Kate  had  soon  become  friends,  and  several 
times  Kate  had  Margaret  and  Florence  with 
her  for  a  day  or  two.  Once  she  had  Margaret 


A  House  is  Painted  59 

alone  to  spend  the  night  with  her,  —  a  night 
when  Sid  lay  long  awake  as  the  leaves  at  his 
windows  whispered  exquisite  things  to  him. 
To  see  Margaret  Helm,  bright  and  happy,  in 
his  own  home,  to  sit  with  her  at  his  own  table, 
to  know  that  she  was  asleep  under  his  own 
roof,  —  these  were  new  and  subtly  tender  sen 
sations  which  Sid  Garrard  could  not  have 
expressed  as  well  as  the  whispering  leaves 
expressed  them  for  him.  Kate  had  not  been 
a  friend  of  any  of  the  girls  whom  Sid  had  at 
various  periods  of  his  life  "  monopolized ; " 
and  none  of  them  had  ever  been  her  guest  for 
a  night.  Besides,  Sid  was  convinced  now  that 
he  had  never  known  a  real  girl  before  he  met 
Margaret  Helm. 

When  Margaret  left  next  morning,  after  that 
first  night  she  spent  with  Kate  Cockerill,  Sid 
strolled  away  through  the  pasture  until,  coming 
to  a  clump  of  oaks,  he  threw  himself  on  the 
thick  grass  in  the  shade,  where  he  lay  on  his 
back,  his  hands  beneath  his  head  and  his  eyes 
to  the  sky.  High  above  the  white  cloud  wisps 
drifted  and  the  sun  hung  far  and  contracted, 
as  if  with  eye  half  closed  against  the  very 
brilliance  of  the  day  he  had  created.  A  haze  of 
heat  shimmered  over  the  stretching  corn-fields 


60  The  Opponents 

and  the  rim  of  distant  woodland.  Somewhere 
vibrated  the  notes  of  a  yellow-breasted  lark,  — 
not  the  ringing  challenge  which  he  sounds  from 
the  sky,  but  the  quivering  trill  which  he  ripples 
from  thorn-bush  or  mullein  spike,  the  veritable 
voice  of  midsummer  noontide.  Nearer,  more 
pervasive  were  the  drone  of  bees  and  the  brows 
ing  of  cattle,  and  nearer  still  Dodona's  oracle 
of  the  night  before  murmured,  as  then,  in  the 
whispering  leaves. 

Later  Sid  took  a  long  walk  over  the  farm, 
and  was  surprised  to  note,  notwithstanding 
Wash's  management,  how  much  room  for  im 
provement  there  was  on  every  hand.  That 
afternoon  Kate  Cockerill  came  upon  Sid  stand 
ing  on  the  lawn,  his  legs  spread  wide,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  gazing  reflectively  at  the  house. 

"  How  long  has  it  been  since  it  was  painted, 
do  you  reckon,  Kate?"  he  asked. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Oh !  yes,  I  do, 
too !  It  was  the  same  year  the  Letchers' 
house  was  painted,  so  I  've  heard  them  say." 

"  And  when  was  that?  " 

"In  —  in  —  oh!  what  year  was  it?  At  any 
rate,  it  was  what  Mr.  Letcher  calls  the  year  that 
Samuel  J.  Tilden  was  elected  President." 

"So?     From  the  looks  of  the  paint  are  you 


A  House  is  Painted  61 

sure  it  was  n't  when  Andrew  Jackson  was  elected 
President?  But  it's  a  shame,  isn't  it,  I've 
let  the  old  place  run  down  like  this?  Why,  it 
simply  is  n't  fit  for  a  girl  like  —  like  you  to 
live  in,  Kit!" 

Kate  stooped  to  break  off  a  calycanthus  bud, 
and  back  of  the  smile  which  she  gave  the  pur 
ple  flower  was  a  resolve  to  have  Margaret 
Helm  spend  another  night  with  her  at  the  first 
opportunity. 

And  when,  two  weeks  later,  Margaret  did 
spend  another  night  with  her,  carpenters, 
painters,  and  paper-hangers  had  renovated  the 
place,  and  Sid  Garrard  played  the  host  with  a 
new  dignity  and  heard  a  new  note  in  the  song 
of  the  leaves  at  his  windows. 

Nor  did  his  interest  in  making  a  suitable 
habitation  for  a  girl  like  Kate  stop  here.  He 
was  surprised  to  discover  how  much  in  need  of 
repairs  were  the  fences,  and  he  daily  astonished 
as  well  as  delighted  Wash  now  by  taking  some 
active  part  in  the  management  of  the  farm. 
Indeed,  so  much  of  his  time  was  given  to  this  new 
impetus  that  even  his  visits  to  Letcher  Tavern 
became  a  little  less  frequent  —  noticeably  so, 
perhaps,  for  it  was  during  these  weeks  that 
Shelby  Letcher,  in  bidding  him  good-night, 


62  The  Opponents 

was  once  heard  to  add  a  qualification  to  his 
usually  unqualified  formula: 

"  Come  oftener  and  stay  longer — and  why 
the  Tom  Walker  have  I  got  to  tell  you  to, 
Sid?" 

And  it  was  during  these  weeks  that  on  at 
least  two  occasions  Kate  Cockerill,  finding  her 
self  alone  with  Margaret  Helm,  suddenly  and 
without  any  apparent  reason  in  particular,  threw 
her  arms  around  her  and  kissed  her  with  — 

"  Oh,  Margaret,  you  are  such  a  dear !  " 

It  was  about  this  time  also  that  Kate  in  her 
chats  with  Sid  began  to  note  in  his  philosophy 
a  strain,  if  not  of  humility,  of  a  certain  lack  of 
self-confidence,  which  was  absolutely  new  in 
his  manifestation  of  himself,  either  real  or  su 
perficial.  It  had  never  been  apparent  in  his 
devotions  to  any  of  the  heroines  of  his  "  buggy- 
rides."  On  the  contrary,  he  had  always  borne 
himself  in  those  affairs  with  a  cheerful  self-suf 
ficiency  and  an  unconscious  reliance  on  the 
adequacy  of  his  own  openly  asserted  interest 
to  command  a  response  in  kind  that  were  at 
once  very  fine  to  see  and  very  effective  in  prov 
ing  their  power. 

But  it  was  not  thus  that  he  always  bore  him 
self  this  summer. 


A  House  is  Painted  63 

"  Kit,"  he  abruptly  said  one  afternoon,  as 
he  lay  in  a  hammock,  while  his  sister  sat  near, 
looking  over  the  newspaper  which  he  had 
thrown  aside,  "  do  you  believe  in  that  old 
notion  that  a  man  can't  be  certain  whether  a 
woman  will  accept  or  refuse  him  until  he  asks 
her?" 

Kate  seemed  to  finish  reading  a  paragraph 
before  she  turned  from  the  paper  and  replied : 

"  Why,  yes ;  that  is,  in  many  cases.  Many 
women  themselves  never  know  whether  they 
will  accept  or  refuse  a  man  until  he  asks 
them." 

"  Oh  !  I  'm  not  speaking  of  them.  Many  of 
them  don't  know  even  after  a  man  has  asked 
them.  I  'm  referring  to  —  well,  women  who 
have  minds  of  their  own  and  can  make  them 
up  for  themselves." 

"  But  it  is  not  a  question  of  mind  —  alto 
gether  —  with  the  women  you  are  referring 
to." 

"  Well,  whatever  it  is,  don't  you  suppose  a 
man  with  a  head  of  his  own  may  always  know 
the  answer  before  he  asks  for  it  —  if  it 's  No  ?  " 

"  But  has  a  man,  under  those  conditions, 
always  a  head  of  his  own?" 

"  Perhaps  I  might  use  some  of  your  own 


64  The  Opponents 

words  and  say  that  his  knowledge  of  the  situa 
tion  is  not  a  question  of  head  —  altogether. 
Anyway,  he  knows  when  it 's  No  without 
asking." 

"  Then  why  does  he  ask?  " 

"  Sometimes  he  doesn't.  When  he  does  — 
why?  Well,  why  do  things  with  heads  insist 
on  butting  them  against  walls  ?  Why  do  things 
with  wings  fly  straight  into  flames?  Why  does 
a  fellow  who  knows  there  is  no  hope  still  hope 
there  is  hope?  Why  has  he  just  got  to  make 
her  tell  him  what  he  knows  already?  Why 
has  he  got  to  talk  to  somebody  about  it,  and 
most  of  all  to  her  who  cares  least  about  it? 
Now,  Mrs.  Kitty,  if  you  don't  understand  don't 
say  that  I  have  n't  done  my  best  to  enlighten 
you." 

He  got  up  and  started  away.  Kate,  whose 
tone  had  been  one  of  levity  and  whose  smile 
had  been  that  with  which  she  usually  bantered 
him,  suddenly  sobered  and  laid  a  detaining 
hand  on  his  arm  for  a  moment  as  he  passed 
her. 

"  I  think  I  do  understand,  Sid,"  she  said 
gently.  "  But  don't  be  too  sure  you  do,  and 
don't  be  too  impatient.  Girls  are  not  like 
men." 


A  House  is  Painted  65 

"  Oh,  girls  !  "  loftily.  "  Bother  girls  !  Of 
course  they  are  not  like  men.  And  any  par 
ticular  girl  —  she  is  liable  to  be  not  even  like 
girls,  is  n't  she  ? "  and  he  walked  away  whis 
tling  shrilly  to  a  long-eared  hound  that  loped 
across  the  lawn  to  join  him. 


VI 


AT  TUNSTALL   PADDOCKS 

ONE  afternoon  in  the  middle  of  August  Kate 
Cockerill  and  Margaret  Helm,  Hugh  Letcher 
and  Sidney  Garrard,  returning  from  a  drive 
along  the  Old  Mill  Road,  and  being  overtaken 
by  a  sudden  storm,  stopped  at  Tunstall  Pad 
docks  for  shelter.  Tunstall  Paddocks  had  once 
been  a  stock  farm  of  some  celebrity,  but  for 
years  now  its  owner,  Morgan  Tunstall,  had  not 
lived  on  the  place,  except  for  a  month  or  two 
occasionally  in  the  summer ;  having  long  since 
sold  out  the  strain  of  thoroughbreds  which  had 
made  the  reputation  of  the  farm,  and  having 
left  it  in  the  hands  of  a  none  too  energetic 
"  manager,"  who  was  satisfied  if  it  produced 
average  crops  of  grain  and  hay,  and  enough 
cattle  and  hogs  for  his  own  use. 

Kate  Cockerill  and  her  party  had  hardly 
taken  possession  of  the  broad  porch  before 
the  storm  broke.  A  servant,  in  answer  to 
their  ring,  had  informed  them  that  Mr.  Barnes, 


At  Tunstall  Paddocks  67 

the  manager,  was  in  Plover,  while  Mrs.  Barnes 
was  in  bed  with  a  sick  headache,  but  hoped 
they  would  make  themselves  at  home;  and 
there  were  melons  and  buttermilk  in  the 
spring-house,  and  cider  and  blackberry  cordial 
in  the  dining-room. 

Kate  ran  up  to  see  Mrs.  Barnes,  and  return 
ing  in  a  few  minutes  found  the  others  of  the 
party  seated  on  the  porch,  while  the  wind  and 
rain  were  swaying  the  trees  and  the  water  was 
gushing  down  and  overrunning  the  gutters. 

"  What  a  splendid  old  place  it  is  !  "  Margaret 
Helm  was  saying,  as  she  looked  out  at  the 
great  forest  trees  and  beyond  to  the  meadows, 
undulating  dimly  through  the  rain  like  billows 
in  a  fog. 

"  What  a  splendid  old  place  it  has  been,  and 
could  be  made  again  !  "  Hugh  qualified.  "  It's 
a  pity  it  does  n't  belong  to  some  one  who  would 
take  more  interest  in  it." 

"  Think  what  it  would  be,"  Sid  suggested, 
"  if  Morgan  Tunstall  took  the  interest  in  it  that 
he  takes  in  politics." 

"Is  Mr.  Tunstall  a  politician?"  Margaret 
asked. 

"  Politician  !  "  exclaimed  Hugh.  "  Abso 
lutely,  irretrievably.  He  lives  on  politics.  He 


68  The  Opponents 

has  taken  to  politics  as  some  men  take  to  drink 
or  gambling.  They  say  it  is  his  one  passion, 
and  that  he  cares  for  nothing  else." 

"Is  he  successful?"  Margaret  continued. 
"  I  don't  remember  to  have  heard  of  him." 

"  He  lost  his  first  game,  I  believe,"  Hugh 
replied ;  "  but  since  that  he  always  wins.  At 
least,  so  father  says,  and  father  is  a  great  au 
thority  on  the  life  and  times  of  Morgan  Tun- 
stall.  But  Tunstall  has  not  sought  office  for 
himself.  He  does  n't  seem  to  care  for  it.  He 
plays  the  game  of  politics  because  it  gives  him 
something  to  do  and  affords  him  a  chance  for 
the  exercise  of  power.  He  plays  it  for  the 
game,  not  for  the  stakes.  In  short,  Miss  Mar 
garet,  if  you  will  pardon  my  illustration,  he 
plays  it  as  a  game  of  chess  rather  than  as  a 
game  of  poker." 

"Which  isn't  a  good  illustration,  Hugh," 
Sid  dissented ;  "  for  if  Miss  Margaret  will  also 
pardon  me  (I  know  Kate  will,  as  she  plays  a 
good  hand  herself),  there  isn't  a  greater  game, 
as  a  game,  than  this  same  poker.  The  master 
poker  player  must  not  only  play  cards,  but  he 
must  play  people  in  a  superlative  degree,  and 
it 's  the  same  with  the  game  of  politics,  as  you 
define  it,  is  n't  it?  At  any  rate,  I  believe,  with 


At  Tunstall  Paddocks  69 

your  father,  that  Morgan  Tunstall  is  a  great 
man,  and  that  it  is  a  pity  he  does  n't  go  in  for 
the  stakes  and  take  some  of  the  offices." 

"  Where  does  he  live,  and  why  does  he 
abandon  such  a  home  as  this?"  were  Mar 
garet's  next  questions. 

"  He  lives  in  Louisville,"  Hugh  answered, 
"  though  once  in  two  or  three  years  he  spends 
a  few  weeks  here.  As  to  why  he  abandoned 
the  place  —  well,  there  is  a  story  connected 
with  that." 

"  Oh,  a  story !  "  Margaret  exclaimed  expect 
antly.  "  Could  there  be  a  better  time  and 
place  for  a  story?"  drawing  her  chair  an  inch 
nearer  Hugh's. 

"  Unfortunately,  there  is  not  enough  known 
about  it  to  make  a  very  effective  story.  All 
that  is  clear  is  that  Tunstall  married,  in  his 
early  twenties,  a  Louisville  girl,  and  brought 
her  here  to  live.  But  she  did  not  like  the 
country,  and  in  less  than  a  year  he  took  her 
back  to  Louisville,  where  he  provided  a  hand 
some  home  for  her.  They  were  supposed  to 
be  happy,  but  one  morning  the  town  was  star 
tled  to  find  that  Mrs.  Tunstall  had  eloped  with 
Julius  Knowles,  a  well-bred  and  popular  fellow 
who  had  never  been  suspected  of  being  a 


70  The  Opponents 

scoundrel.  They  say  Tunstall  took  it  coolly. 
He  got  a  divorce,  and  when  the  couple  married 
and  actually  had  the  effrontery  to  return  to 
Louisville  and  brazen  it  out  by  living  there,  he 
never  betrayed  that  he  was  aware  of  their  exist 
ence.  He  has  never  made  his  home  at  Tunstall 
Paddocks  since." 

"  It  is  a  pitiful,  horrible  story,"  was  Marga 
ret's  comment,  with  a  soft  gravity  of  tone  and 
face. 

"  It  is  terrible,"  echoed  Kate. 

"  One  of  the  contemptible  things  about  the 
case  I  have  not  mentioned,"  Hugh  went  on. 
"  As  I  said,  Tunstall  acted  coolly  and  ignored 
the  pair  when  they  returned  to  Louisville,  and 
this,  to  some  extent,  was  held  against  him.  It 
is,  or  used  to  be,  the  unwritten  law  of  this 
country  that  the  one  thing  left  to  be  done  by 
a  man  wronged  as  Tunstall  was  wronged  was 
to  kill  the  man  who  wronged  him.  Because 
Tunstall  paid  no  attention  to  this  law,  I  have 
heard  that  he  was  long  suspected  by  many  of 
cowardice." 

"  No  one  who  knows  Morgan  Tunstall,"  Sid 
declared,  "  would  believe  there  is  a  drop  of 
cowardly  blood  in  his  body.  No  one  here  has 
believed  it  since  he  defied  that  mob  and  saved 


At  Tunstall  Paddocks  71 

the  life  of  that  negro  boy  whom  the  badly 
scared  sheriff  of  this  county  was  about  to  sur 
render  to  the  lynchers." 

"  But  many  believed  it  at  first,  Sid.  That 
was  why,  when  he  took  up  politics  as  a  pas 
time,  he  lost  his  first  game." 

"  I  don't  see  how  any  one  who  ever  saw  him 
could  doubt  Mr.  Tunstall's  courage,"  said  Kate. 
"  Come  and  look  at  his  portrait,  Margaret." 

The  two  girls  went  into  the  house,  and  when 
they  came  out  a  few  minutes  later  Margaret's 
expression  was  one  of  unusual  thoughtfulness. 

"Well,  what  did  you  make  of  him?"  Hugh 
asked  her. 

She  drew  her  wrap  around  her  shoulders 
more  closely  and  answered  a  little  absently, 
as  if  to  some  self-inquisition  rather  than  to  a 
question  of  another : 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  face  that  impressed  me 
more  with  its  strength  and  power.  I  should 
not  like  to  be  either  the  man  or  the  mob  to 
cross  the  will  of  Mr.  Tunstall." 

"  That 's  a  good  portrait,  and  you  are  a  good 
reader  of  faces,  Miss  Margaret,"  Sid  testified. 


VII 

THE  HEAD  AND  THE  WALL 

THE  rain  soon  passed,  and  the  party  drove  to 
the  Garrards'  for  dinner.  Hugh  Letcher  and 
Kate  Cockerill  were  dropped  here,  but  Sid, 
who  was  to  go  on  to  Letcher  Tavern  for  Flor 
ence,  turned  to  Margaret  Helm  on  the  front 
seat  beside  him. 

"  It  is  just  the  time  of  day  for  a  delightful 
drive,"  he  said ;  "  do  you  know  of  any  reason 
why  I  should  have  this  one  all  to  myself?  " 

"  None  in  the  world,"  she  smiled,  "  unless 
Kate  has  some  other  use  for  me." 

Mrs.  Cockerill,  thus  appealed  to,  ordered 
Margaret  to  keep  her  seat,  and  Sid  drove  off 
with  a  triumphant  stir  in  his  blood.  It  was 
rare  that  he  could  find  an  opportunity  to  be 
alone  with  Margaret,  and  it  was  rarer  that  she 
so  readily  acquiesced  in  it. 

He  vigorously  shook  up  the  horses,  as  if  to 
quicken  them  to  the  new  momentum  pulsing 
into  the  hands  that  held  the  reins,  but  he  soon 


The  Head  and  the  Wall        73 

pulled  up  to  a  lazy  jog.  The  road  to  Letcher 
Tavern  was  all  too  short,  and  he  wished  to 
make  the  most  of  it. 

There  were  other  reasons  why  one,  even  if 
he  did  not  have  Margaret  Helm  beside  him, 
should  not  hasten  over  that  bit  of  road.  The 
limestone  macadam,  washed  clean  by  the  rain, 
was  as  smooth  as  asphalt.  The  foliage  of  the 
trees,  bushes,  and  vines  that  lined  it  was  glis 
tening  wet  and  sighed  fitfully  the  ecstasy  of  its 
rejuvenation,  and  there  were  new  notes  in  the 
throats  of  birds  that  might  have  been  caught 
from  this  ecstasy  of  the  leaves.  The  sun  was 
sinking  in  a  marvellously  clarified  sky  of  blue 
and  green,  without  a  dash  of  other  color  to  blur 
its  brilliant  purity.  There  was  an  answering 
purity  in  the  cooled  air,  which  was  charged, 
besides,  with  the  insidious  and  tonic  odors  of 
drenched  woods  and  fields. 

At  a  certain  point  on  that  stretch  of  road  a 
great  wild-grape  vine  sprawls  up  by  the  bole 
of  a  tall  ash  and  weaves  a  wide  arch  across  the 
pike  into  the  branches  of  the  trees  on  the  other 
side.  It  was  just  here,  Sid  Garrard  always 
remembers  when  he  sees  this  arch,  that  Mar 
garet  Helm  turned  to  him  with  a  thrillingly 
sweet  and  radiant  face  which  he  was  never 


74  The  Opponents 

to  forget  It  appeared  to  have  bloomed,  like 
the  scene  around  them,  out  of  the  storm,  —  the 
freshness  of  its  coloring,  the  wet  scarlet  of  the 
lips,  the  rain-swept  sky-light  of  the  eyes,  even 
the  hair,  coiling  at  the  neck  and  massed  heavily 
over  the  brow,  seemingly  darkened  and  damp 
ened  by  the  exhilarating  humidity  of  the  atmos 
phere.  It  was  a  face  which  told  him  that  she 
had  never  before  liked  him  as  much  as  now. 

"  So  you  did  make  the  amende  to  Uncle 
Minus,"  she  smiled. 

"  Uncle  Minus?  "  blankly.  "  Oh  !  about  the 
balloon  problem  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  How  did  you  know?"  he  laughed. 

"  He  told  me  only  this  morning.  I  noticed 
that  he  had  been  sitting  on  the  garden  fence 
for  a  long  time  —  it  must  have  been  at  least  an 
hour.  His  head  was  propped  in  his  hands  and 
he  was  so  still  that  I  might  have  believed  him 
asleep  if  he  had  not  twice  got  down  and  care 
fully  made  some  curious  lines  on  the  ground 
with  his  toe.  Finally  I  yielded  to  my  curiosity 
and  went  out  to  him  and  asked  him  what  was 
the  matter. 

" '  Hit 's  de  same  de  matter  whut  's  been  de 
matter  ever  sence  Mr.  Sid  tole  me  'bout  dat 


The  Head  and  the  Wall        75 

b'loon,  Miss  Marg'rit,'  he  said.  '  I  des  tryin' 
to  work  out  how  high  dat  b'loon  wuz  when  dat 
pistol  went  off —  da'  's  all.' 

"  I  asked  him  if  he  was  sure  Mr.  Sid  himself 
could  work  out  that,  and  he  said : 

" '  I  dunno  'bout  dat.  Maybe  he  kin  en 
maybe  he  cain't.  Mr.  Sid,  he  come  roun'  yere 
t'  other  day  en  he  'lowed  he  wuz  des  foolin' 
when  he  give  me  dat  sum,  en  he  tole  me  't  wa'  n't 
no  use  fer  me  to  pester  no  furder  'bout  it,  caze 
he  des  made  it  up  hisse'f  to  ketch  me,  en  it 
cain't  be  worked  out  nohow.  But  I  up  en  tole 
him  to  go  'long.  Dah  wuz  de  sum,  en  it  boun' 
to  have  er  answer.  Dah  wuz  de  b'loon,  dah 
wuz  de  pistol  fired  off,  dah  wuz  de  bullit  en  de 
soun'  hittin'  de  groun'  at  de  same  time  —  how 
high  wuz  de  b'loon  ?  Nobody  cain't  deny  de 
b'loon  wuz  so  high  when  de  pistol  went  off: 
how  high  wuz  she?  Maybe  Mr.  Sid  done  fool 
hisse'f,  but  dey  cain't  nobody  fool  me  'bout 
sums.  Ev'y  sum,  hit  des  bleedzed  to  have  er 
answer,  en  dat  b'loon,  hit  sholy  is  a  sum,  en  I 
gwine  work  it  out,  don't  keer  whut  Mr.  Sid  say, 
ef  de  good  Lawd  spar'  me  bref  en  strenk.' 

"  I  'm  afraid  it  is  impossible  to  break  him  of 
the  habit  of  trying  to  find  out  how  high  the 
balloon  was,"  Margaret  concluded. 


76  The  Opponents 

"  Yes,"  Sid  agreed,  laughing,  for  the  second 
time,  at  her  faithful  imitation  of  Minus,  "  he 
thinks  I  builded  bigger  than  I  knew  when  I 
'  made  up  '  that  problem,  and  I  only  won  his 
contempt  when  I  tried  to  convince  him  it  could 
not  be  solved." 

They  had  now  come  out  on  the  stretch  of 
road  that  lay  for  a  mile  along  the  bank  of  the 
little  river.  To  the  left  the  level  rays  of  the  low 
sun  lit  rolling  leagues  of  grassland,  dotted  by 
an  occasional  spreading  tree,  or  cluster  of  trees, 
and  marked  by  long  lines  of  intersecting  fences. 
Nearer  and  to  the  right  the  thick  fringe  of 
shrubbery  that  edged  the  river  and  hung  over 
the  water  threw  upon  the  stilled  stream  the 
first  cool,  brooding  shadows  of  evening.  Far 
ther  ahead  the  surface  of  the  river  widened  in 
a  sun-smitten  sheet  of  silver,  extending,  it 
seemed,  to  the  very  windows  of  Letcher  Tavern, 
which  shone  as  if  with  the  same  brilliance. 
Sid  Garrard  had  pulled  the  horses  to  a  slow 
walk. 

"  But  it  would  n't  be  safe,"  he  said,  turning 
his  head  and  looking  at  her  with  sudden  seri 
ousness,  "  to  credit  me  with  any  belated  con 
sideration  for  Uncle  Minus  in  confessing  the 
trick  I  had  played  him.  I  tried  to  undo  that 


The  Head  and  the  Wall        77 

trick  simply  because  you  disapproved  of  it. 
Do  you  remember,  when  you  told  the  story, 
the  evening  of  the  day  I  first  met  you  ?  " 

She  colored  a  little. 

"  Yes  —  that  is,  I  remember  I  told  the  story." 

"  And  I  remember  you  did  n't  like  my  part 
in  it.  That  was  the  most  distinct  impression  it 
made  on  me,  because,  I  suppose,  from  the  very 
first  I  have  wished  to  please  you,  not  displease 
you.  Perhaps  because  I  so  much  wished  to 
please  you  was  one  reason  why  I  have  done  little 
but  displease  you." 

She  was  rosy  now,  and  as  serious  as  he. 

"  No  !  no  !  "  she  protested  with  agitation. 
"  That  is  not  true  !  How  could  it  be?  I  —  I 
have  not  taken  it  on  myself  to  be  either  pleased 
or  displeased  with  what  does  not  concern  me." 

"  But  everything  I  have  done  since  I  met  you 
has  concerned  you  —  that  is,  in  the  sense  that 
you  have  been  the  motive  of  everything  I  have 
done.  You  know  —  you  must  know  —  that 
from  the  day  I  first  saw  you  I  have  thought 
only  of  you  —  only  of  how  to  —  " 

"  Don't,  please  !  You  must  not !  "  making  a 
quick  gesture  that  was  at  once  imploring  and 
imperative.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  hear." 

"  Yes,  I  know.     I  am  only  displeasing  you 


78  The  Opponents 

again.  But  you  are  going  away  soon,  and  I 
must  have  it  out,  though  I  am  perfectly  aware 
there  is  no  chance  for  me  —  yet." 

"Why  would  you  spoil  everything?"  she 
said  sadly,  a  little  petulantly.  "  I  did  so  wish 
us  to  continue  to  be  good  friends !  " 

"  Good  friends  !  We  have  never  been  good 
friends.  It  was  impossible,  when  I  loved  you 
so  openly  and  madly  from  the  first,  and  it  will 
always  be  impossible  because  I  can  never  for 
get  my  love  for  you  long  enough  to  compro 
mise  on  friendship.  I  want  your  love,  Margaret, 
nothing  less.  I  know  I  cannot  have  it  now, 
but  —  " 

"  Oh,  love  !  love  !  "  she  interrupted  passion 
ately,  her  cheeks  glowing,  her  eyes  flashing. 
"  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  the  word.  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it !  I  am  so  young  yet,  and 
there  are  so  many  other  things  that  come  be 
fore  love.  There  is  no  man  living  that  I  would 
allow  myself  to  love  now !  "  Her  lips  were 
half  parted  as  she  finished  speaking ;  she  threw 
out  both  hands  in  a  swift,  outspreading  motion, 
as  her  eyes  looked  out  exultantly  on  the  beau 
tiful  world  before  her  and  her  nostrils  drew  in 
its  exhilarating  atmosphere. 

"  Ordinarily,"  Sid  droned,  "  I  'd  say  it  would 


The  Head  and  the  Wall         79 

be  a  poor  sort  of  love  if  a  girl  could  control  it 
at  will ;  but  you,  Margaret  —  well,  you  are  not 
to  be  classed  ordinarily,  and  I  'm  not  sure  that 
anything  is  impossible  with  you  now.  Any 
way,  I  shall  wait  with  the  rest  until  you  have 
had  the  other  things,  and  when  the  time  comes 
I  shall  take  my  chance  with  the  rest  —  if  I  can't 
get  my  way  before." 

She  paid  no  attention  to  this.  Her  breath 
ing  was  still  full,  her  head  still  high,  her  eyes 
still  victoriously  penetrating  the  beautiful  world 
beyond  the  track  of  the  silvered  river. 

"  When  the  time  comes  !  "  was  Sid's  thought 
as  he  shook  up  the  horses.  "  The  glory  of  that 
time  to  the  man  who  comes  with  it !  But  one 
thing  is  certain  —  he  will  be  a  man,  not  a 
boy." 


VIII 

"A  YOUNG   FOOL" 

ONE  passing  along  that  road  on  an  afternoon 
about  a  week  later  might  have  inferred  that 
some  festivity  was  in  progress  at  Letcher  Tav 
ern.  At  one  point  of  the  shaded  lawn  there 
was  a  group  of  a  dozen  garrulous  and  laughing 
young  people,  and  scattered  in  various  direc 
tions  under  the  trees  were  several  couples,  less 
audible.  Old  Shelby  Letcher,  with  his  chair 
tilted  against  an  oak,  was  delivering  a  mono 
logue,  emphasized  by  gestures  with  the  pipe 
which  he  had  taken  temporarily  from  his 
mouth,  and  addressing  his  remarks  especially 
to  Sid  Garrard,  who  maintained  a  listening 
attitude,  but  whose  eyes  sought  the  larger 
and  noisier  group  in  the  babble  of  which  the 
voice  of  Margaret  Helm,  though  unusually  soft 
and  low,  was  easily  distinguishable.  Here  and 
there  were  two  or  three  negroes  serving  light 
refreshments. 

But  it  was  not  a  prearranged  affair  of  any 
kind.     It  was  the  last  day  of  Margaret  Helm's 


"A  Young  Fool"  81 

visit  to  Kentucky,  and  Margaret's  friends,  with 
the  Letchers'  friends,  had  simply  come  over, 
and  out,  and  in,  to  say  good-bye. 

Sid  Garrard,  since  he  had  "  had  it  out "  with 
Margaret  a  week  before,  had  not  again  verged 
on  sentimental  or  even  personal  ground.  He 
knew  that  he  could  only  lose  by  trying  to  force 
the  issue  further  at  present,  and  there  was 
nothing  for  him  to  do  but,  as  he  would  have 
expressed  it,  "  give  her  her  head."  He  had 
set  himself  to  continue,  as  before,  their  usual 
friendly  relations,  and  he  had  been  consum 
mately  seconded  by  Margaret.  Perhaps  Kate 
Cockerill  may  have  suspected  the  real  situation, 
but  beyond  her  surely  there  could  have  been 
no  other  —  unless  it  was  Florence  Letcher. 
To  venture  an  opinion  on  that  point  would 
hardly  be  profitable ;  for  it  is  not  given  to  a 
masculine  mind  to  fathom  the  knowledge, 
intuitions,  or  suspicions  existing  between  two 
girl  intimates.  Nevertheless  Sid  inwardly  chafed 
that  he  had  to  spend  so  much  of  this  last  after 
noon  of  Margaret's  stay  listening  to  Shelby 
Letcher's  well-worn  political  dogmas,  and  that 
even  could  he  escape  these  he  could  only  be 
one  of  the  score  that  were  now  making  merry 
at  Letcher  Tavern. 

6 


82  The  Opponents 

The  political  dogmas  were  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  two  men  who  drove  up,  and, 
leaving  their  buggy  at  the  gate,  walked 
with  a  business-like  directness  toward  Shelby 
Letcher.  One  of  these  was  John  W.  Driggs, 
familiarly  and  admiringly  called  "Jawn  W." 
He  was  a  well-made,  ill-dressed  fellow  of  fifty, 
with  a  shrewd,  firm  face,  shaved  except  at  the 
cleft  between  chin  and  lower  lip,  from  which 
grew  a  pointed  tuft  of  gray  hair,  above  which 
his  upper  lip  closed  down  in  a  clean,  almost 
straight  line,  ending  at  the  corners  in  two 
little  dimples  that  gave  an  inconsistently  cher 
ubic  and  youthful  touch  to  his  countenance. 
"  Jawn  W."  was  the  head  of  the  Democratic 
County  Committee  and  had  long  been  the 
local  party  leader  and  boss.  His  companion 
was  Squire  Breckinridge  Bodine,  who,  not 
being  able  to  pass  the  ladies  on  the  lawn 
without  a  great  deal  of  bowing  and  beaming, 
and  without  stopping  to  bend  low  over  Flor 
ence's  hand,  was  a  quarter  of  a  minute  behind 
Driggs  in  joining  Shelby  Letcher. 

"Ain't  that  Jawn  W.  and  Breck  Bodine?" 
asked  Mr.  Letcher,  swinging  his  pipe  toward 
the  two  and  cutting  off  a  sentence  invocative 
of  the  Resolutions  of  '98.  "  I  wonder,"  raising 


"A  Young  Fool"  83 

his  voice  that  Driggs  might  not  miss  the  words, 
"  what  skulduggery  Jawn  W.  is  up  to  now. 
I  say,  Sid,  would  you  mind  stepping  around 
the  house  and  unchaining  old  Rosin?" 

Shelby  Letcher  was  one  of  Driggs'  greatest 
admirers,  and  it  was  his  way  of  showing  his 
admiration  to  profess  to  Driggs  himself  much 
contempt  and  respect  for  Driggs'  powers  of 
rascality. 

Driggs  came  up,  both  dimples  going,  and 
was  received  with  a  vigorous  hand  by  Mr. 
Letcher.  As  Squire  Bodine  followed,  Mr. 
Letcher  called  to  a  negro  who  was  passing  with 
a  tray. 

"  Bring  that  over  here,  Sam.     What  is  it?  " 

"  Lemonade,  sir,"  the  boy  answered,  as  he 
approached. 

"  Lem  —  lemonade  !  Listen  to  that,  gentle 
men.  Lemonade  for  Jawn  W.  and  Breck 
Bodine !  Sam,  will  you  never  learn  any 
manners?  Water  the  peonies  with  it  and —  " 

He  went  over  to  Sam  and  gave  him  a  few 
directions  in  a  lowered  voice;  then  turning  to 
Driggs  and  Bodine  again,  as  Sam  hastened 
toward  the  house,  said : 

"Gentlemen,  I  hope  you  will  excuse  Sam. 
He  's  one  of  these  new  niggers,  and  what 's 


84  The  Opponents 

worse,  was  born  over  in  Indiana,  or  Illinois 
somewhere,  and  you  all  know  very  well  you 
can't  expect  a  darkey  raised  across  the  Ohio 
River  to  have  any  real  nigger  breeding." 

"  Hah !  don't  give  yourself  any  uneasiness, 
Mr.  Letcher,"  Squire  Bodine  protested,  fan 
ning  his  hot  face  with  his  hat.  "  Everybody 
knows  that  no  Letcher  Tavern  darkey  ever 
makes  a  miscue  among  gentlemen ;  though  I 
can't  see  that  it  was  any  particular  fault  of 
Sam's  this  time,  as  he  was  makin'  for  the 
ladies  when  you  called  him,  and  I  have  under 
stood  that  ladies  have  a  taste  for  lemonade." 

"  Well,  Squire,  whosever  fault  it  was,  I 
promise  you  it  shall  soon  be  remedied." 

"  In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Letcher,"  Driggs 
suggested,  "is  Hugh  at  home?  We'd  like 
particularly  to  have  a  few  words  with  him  this 
evenin',  on  the  matter  I  mentioned  to  you  in 
Yardley  the  other  day." 

"  Why,  yes,  he  's  here  somewheres  or  other. 
O  Hugh !  Sid,  look  around  and  find  that 
young  man,  won't  you? " 

Sid  found  Hugh  among  those  who  had 
gathered  about  Margaret  Helm,  and  send 
ing  him  to  his  father,  took  the  desirable  seat 
near  Margaret  which  Hugh  vacated.  There 


"A  Young  Fool"  85 

was  no  opportunity,  however,  for  such  engross 
ment  in  Margaret's  society  that  Sid  did  not 
see  Driggs,  Bodine,  and  Hugh  walk  off  to  a  far 
corner  of  the  grounds,  where  they  sat  down 
and  engaged  in  a  conversation  that  seemed 
principally  conducted  by  Driggs.  When  Sam 
reappeared  with  a  differently  colored  set  of 
glasses  on  his  tray,  he  was  directed  by  Shelby 
Letcher  to  the  far  corner,  and  when  he  left  the 
far  corner  he  evidently  took  a  request  to  Mr. 
Letcher  which  the  old  gentleman  complied  with 
by  getting  up  and  going  over  to  the  far  corner 
himself.  There  was  much  more  talk,  Shelby 
Letcher  now  apparently  leading ;  finally  Driggs 
rose  and  shook  Hugh's  hand,  after  which  he 
also  shook  Mr.  Letcher's,  a  performance  that 
was  repeated  immediately,  though  more  ef 
fusively,  by  Squire  Bodine.  Sam  was  now 
again  summoned,  with  another  set  of  glasses ; 
Shelby  Letcher,  holding  a  glass  in  one  hand 
and  his  pipe  in  the  other,  made  a  short  speech, 
after  which  a  toast  was  drunk,  clearly  to  Hugh 
Letcher,  and  the  party,  all  smiling  now,  moved 
slowly  across  the  lawn  toward  the  gate. 

As  they  were  passing  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  group  in  which  Sid  Garrard  was  sitting, 
Squire  Bodine,  with  an  eye  ever  to  the  ladies, 


86  The  Opponents 

lifted  his  hat  from  his  head  and,  his  broad  face 
radiant  with  the  situation  in  which  he  found 
himself,  bowed  impressively  and  proclaimed : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  the  high 
honor  to  be  the  first  to  announce  —  er,  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  I  am  most  happy  in  being  the 
first  to  enjoy  the  privilege  and  distinction  of 
presenting  to  you  our  next  Senator  in  the 
State  Legislature,  the  Hon.  Hugh  Letcher." 

This  was  received  with  exclamations  of  sur 
prise  and  congratulation  and  with  a  round  of 
hand-clapping  which  Squire  Bodine  at  once 
took  to  himself  as  a  tribute  to  his  oratorical 
powers,  responsive  to  which,  bubbling  over 
with  satisfaction  and  reassurances  of  the  truth 
of  his  announcement,  he  was  the  next  instant 
in  the  thick  of  the  crowd,  grasping  hands  right 
and  left,  especially  hands  of  the  ladies. 

Hugh,  besieged  for  explanation,  laughed, 
with  a  gesture  toward  Driggs,  who,  ill  at  ease 
in  such  company,  was  silently  standing  at  some 
distance,  by  the  side  of  Shelby  Letcher. 

Driggs  was  dumb,  and  Shelby  Letcher 
undertook  to  amplify  Squire  Bodine's  an 
nouncement. 

"  This  is  all  there  is  to  it,  my  friends,"  he 
said,  extending  his  pipe  out  over  his  auditors. 


"  A  Young  Fool  "  87 

"  Our  worthy  fellow  citizen,  Squire  Bodine,  is, 
I  am  afraid,  a  little  precipitate.  Hugh  is  not 
elected  yet — he  is  not  even  nominated,  but 
the  —  er  —  the  executive  heads  of  the  party, 
through  their  chief  and  representative,  Jawn 
W.  Driggs,  Chairman  of  the  Luttroll  County 
Democratic  Committee,  have  expressed  a  de 
sire  that  my  son  consent  to  become  a  candi 
date  before  the  convention  for  the  nomination, 
with  kindly  personal  assurances  from  Mr. 
Driggs  that  the  young  man  will  enlist  such 
influential  interests  in  his  support  that  his 
chances  for  nomination  by  the  convention  are 
—  er  —  very  promising,  very  promising  in 
deed." 

"  Very  promising?"  swelled  Squire  Bodine, 
straightening  up  from  a  bow  he  had  been  mak 
ing  over  Margaret  Helm  and,  in  his  resentment 
of  the  attempted  qualification  of  his  own  words, 
forgetting  to  release  her  hand.  '•  Lookahere, 
Mr.  Letcher,  you  know  as  well  as  anybody 
that  Hugh  is  done  as  good  as  elected  —  that 
Jawn  W.  Driggs  is  for  him,  first,  last,  and  all 
the  time,  and  that  when  Jawn  W.  Driggs  says, 
'  Stick ! '  the  convention  says,  *  Stuck ! '  and 
that  a  nomination  means  an  election,  hands 
down.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  that's  all  there 


88  The  Opponents 

is  to  it,  and  the  Hon.  Shelby  Letcher  knows  it, 
the  Hon.  Hugh  Letcher  knows  it,  and  the  Hon. 
Jawn  W.  Driggs  knows  it  better  'n  anybody." 

Again  expressions  of  gratification  and  con 
gratulation  were  addressed  to  the  future  State 
Senator,  and  Sid  was  standing  near  Margaret 
when,  as  Hugh  approached,  she  impulsively 
stretched  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  I  am  so  glad  !  "  she  exclaimed  radiantly. 
"  I  know  you  will  make  a  splendid  record,  and 
we  shall  all  be  proud  of  you." 

"7'd  go  to  the  penitentiary,  if  necessary, 
Hugh,  instead  of  to  the  Legislature,"  Sid 
laughed,  "  to  have  such  things  as  that  said  to 
me.  And  by  the  way,"  with  a  sudden  serious 
ness,  "  why  can't  I  go  to  the  Legislature  with 
you  ?  I  've  been  with  you  in  most  of  your 
record-making  heretofore.  I  say,  Mr.  Driggs," 
the  laughter  again  in  his  voice,  as  he  turned 
abruptly  to  the  county  chairman,  "  Hugh  and 
I  are  usually  partners  in  iniquity.  Can't  you 
send  me  with  him  to  Frankfort  ?  " 

"To  the  Legislature?"  asked  Driggs,  some 
what  at  a  loss  how  to  take  this  sally  of  Sid's. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  to  the  Legislature." 

Nearly  every  one  was  laughing  now.  The 
joke  seemed  a  good  one.  "  Listen  to  Sid !  " 


"A  Young  Fool"  89 

cried  out  Nixon.  "  He  's  actually  putting  him 
self  in  the  hands  of  his  friends  for  the  Legis 
lature  !  He  '11  be  coming  out  for  Governor 
soon ! " 

"I'd  like  to  suppote  you,  Sid,"  responded 
Driggs,  "  but  I  'm  afraid  you  're  a  little  too 
late." 

"  Hugh  goes  to  the  Senate,"  Sid  persisted, 
"  but  you  Ve  still  got  the  place  in  the  House, 
have  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  know,  Lanagin  has  been  prom 
ised  —  well,  you  know,  he  's  been  a  candidate 
for  the  place  for  several  weeks,  and  I  expect 
he  's  got  it  nailed  down  pretty  tight  by  this 
time.  In  fact,  Mr.  Garrard,  I  keep  toler'bly 
well  posted  on  the  politics  of  the  county,  and 
I  'm  dead  sho  that  Lanagin  already  has  a  ma 
jority  of  the  delegates  to  the  convention." 

"  Why,  the  delegates  have  not  been  selected 
yet." 

"That  don't  make  no  difference,  Mr.  Gar 
rard.  The  —  the  people  are  done  committed 
to  Lanagin,  and  the  delegates  are  bound  to  be 
selected  accordin'ly." 

"  Oh,  come  off,  Sid  !  "  Squire  Bodine  put  in, 
"  you  know  as  well  as  anybody  that  Jawn  W. 
Driggs  is  promised  for  Lanagin,  and  that  when 


90  The  Opponents 

Jawn  W.  Driggs  says,  '  Stick ! '  the  convention 
says,  '  Stuck !  '  " 

"  Officially,"  qualified  Driggs,  "  I  'm  not  for 
nobody,  but  personally  I  was  long  ago  com 
mitted  to  Lanagin.  If  you  had  spoke  to  me 
earlier,  it  might  have  been  different." 

The  joke  still  seemed  to  be  considered  a 
good  one.  "  I  do  believe  Sid  's  in  earnest !  " 
roared  Nixon.  Sid  glanced  around  at  the 
merry  faces.  They  were  laughing  at  the  very 
thought  of  his  broaching  the  idea  of  becoming 
a  candidate  for  the  Legislature.  But  Margaret 
Helm  was  not  laughing.  She  was  looking  from 
him  to  Driggs  with  wonder  and  perplexity. 
Kate  Cockerill  was  not  laughing.  Her  face 
was  flushed  in  resentment  of  the  laughter,  and 
her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Sid  with  a  touch  of 
solicitude  in  their  tender  depths.  Sid  flushed 
a  little  himself,  and  his  jaws  hardened.  He 
turned  again  to  Driggs. 

"  So  you  think  there  would  be  no  chance  for 
me  in  your  convention,  Mr.  Driggs?  " 

"  Well,  you  know  everybody  has  a  right  to 
go  before  the  convention  that  wants  to,  Mr. 
Garrard ;  but  what  would  be  the  use  ?  I  'm 
givin'  it  to  you  as  a  friend  that  it  is  my  honest 
personal  opinion  that  no  man  in  the  county 
would  have  a  chance  now  against  Lanagin." 


"A  Young  Fool"  91 

"  All  right,"  Sid  announced  with  quiet  reso 
lution  ;  "  then  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  against 
Lanagin  before  the  people  instead  of  before 
the  convention." 

"  By  George,  he  is  in  earnest ! "  gurgled 
Nixon. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  '11  run  inde 
pendent?"  replied  Driggs  in  amazement. 

"  I  suppose  that 's  what  you  call  it,"  Sid 
answered,  moving  away. 

"  It 's  —  it 's  everlastin'  suicide,  Sid  !  "  gasped 
Squire  Bodine. 

"  Sid,  you  're  a  young  fool !  "  pronounced 
Shelby  Letcher,  with  unaffected  asperity. 

Sid  was  smiling  again  now.  "  Well,"  he 
replied,  "  this  is  my  first  appearance  in  politics 
you  know  —  " 

"  And  it  '11  be  yo'  last,  my  boy,"  interjected 
Squire  Bodine. 

"  And  I  'm  doing  the  best  I  know  how,"  Sid 
continued ;  "  and  as  my  first  speech,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  ask  everybody  to  vote  for  me  who 
is  not  committed  to  somebody  else." 

"  There  's  one  thing  sure,  Sid,"  Nixon  bel 
lowed,  "  you  'd  win,  in  spite  of  all  the  Lanagins 
and  the  Driggses,  if  the  girls  of  the  county 
could  vote." 


IX 


THE  ISSUE  JOINED 

WHEN  about  four  years  later  Sidney  Garrard 
announced  his  candidacy  for  Congress,  there 
were  few  voters  in  Luttroll  County  who  did 
not  recall  and  recount,  with  some  personal 
reminiscence,  his  first  race  for  the  Legislature 
and  the  altogether  surprising  manner  in  which 
he  "  slipped  up  "  on  John  W.  Driggs  and  his 
man  Lanagin.  Not  many  of  the  Luttroll  voters 
had  taken  that  race  any  more  seriously  than 
Nixon  had  done  at  the  moment  when  Sid  had 
so  suddenly  declared  his  intention  to  become 
a  candidate.  It  had  been  looked  upon  as  a 
"  joke  "  by  the  county  generally,  as  it  had  been 
looked  upon  by  most  of  those  who  heard  his 
declaration  on  that  afternoon  at  Letcher  Tavern. 
People  laughed  good-humoredly  in  his  face 
wherever  he  went  in  his  canvass  of  the  district, 
but  many  of  those  who  laughed  voted  for  him 
on  election  day,  because  of  some  special  rea 
son  :  because  he  was  the  friend  of  the  voter ; 


The  Issue  Joined  93 

because  he  was  "  a  clever  chap  "  and  "  a  good 
fellow ;  "  because  their  votes  could  not  affect 
the  result,  anyway;  because,  even  in  a  joke, 
they  liked  the  spunk  of  a  man  who  would 
"  buck "  against  John  W.  Driggs  and  his 
machine.  Sid  Garrard  was  simply  rated  as 
Sid  Garrard,  happy-go-lucky,  "  one  of  the 
boys  "  even  younger  than  his  years,  hail  fellow 
with  horses  and  dogs,  but  fonder  of  pretty  girls 
than  he  was  even  of  horses  and  dogs,  "  popu 
lar  "  among  all  classes  of  men,  with  whom  he 
was  ever  ready  to  give  and  take  a  story  or  a 
prank.  His  candidacy  for  the  Legislature  was 
considered  only  as  one  of  his  pranks.  It  was 
not  taken  seriously  because  Sid  himself  had 
not  been  known  to  take  anything  seriously. 

But  notwithstanding  that  Sid  knew  nearly 
every  voter  in  the  county  and  made  personal 
overtures  for  his  support,  and  notwithstanding 
that  he  received  so  many  votes  for  the  reasons 
already  indicated,  he  could  not  have  been 
elected  if  Driggs  and  the  machine,  like  the  rest 
of  the  county,  had  not  also  laughed  in  his  face 
and  regarded  his  candidacy  a  joke.  Lanagin, 
once  nominated,  was,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
"  as  good  as  elected."  Certainly  John  W. 
Driggs  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  make  any 


94  The  Opponents 

particular  effort  to  defeat  such  an  opponent  as 
Sid  Garrard. 

When  the  count  of  the  ballots  showed  that 
Sid  had  been  actually  elected  by  a  scant  major 
ity,  it  was  considered  a  bigger  joke  than  ever. 
People  laughed  in  his  face  more  heartily  than 
before.  But  Driggs  did  not  laugh.  No  one  in 
Luttroll  County  believed  that  Driggs  ever 
afterward  thought  it  a  laughing  matter,  or  ever 
entirely  recovered  from  the  blow  which  his 
pride  and  prestige  suffered  in  Lanagin's  inex 
cusable  defeat. 

Before  Sid  had  served  out  his  first  term, 
however,  people  quit  laughing  at  him,  either 
in  his  face  or  behind  his  back.  He  put  the 
same  energy  and  enthusiasm  into  his  work  at 
Frankfort  that  he  had  put  into  his  play  at 
home.  He  made  such  a  record  as  a  progres 
sive,  fearless,  and  clean  member  of  the  House 
that  he  had  little  opposition  for  re-election, 
which  he  secured  after  easily  beating  Lanagin 
for  the  nomination  in  convention,  thus  return 
ing  to  the  Legislature  with  unimpeachable  cre 
dentials  of  "  regularity,"  indispensable  in  win 
ning  his  hard  fight  for  the  Speakership. 

The  value  of  his  service  as  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  was  disputed.  The 


The  Issue  Joined  95 

"  thick-and-thin  "  element  of  his  party,  "  the 
fossils,"  the  "  old  guard,"  "  the  machine,"  the 
"  Bourbons,"  the  men  who  believed,  like  Shelby 
Letcher,  that  the  worst  Democrat  was  better 
than  the  best  Republican,  and  yet  who  could 
not  have  given  a  more  intelligent  reason  why 
they  were  Democrats  than  that  "  the  Demo 
crats  are  our  people  "  —  these  and  their  repre 
sentatives  in  the  House  were  not  pleased  with 
Sidney  Garrard's  record  as  Speaker.  On  the 
contrary,  there  were  times  when  they  were 
astounded  and  outraged  by  his  failure  to  do 
what  any  "  good  party  man  "  would  have  done 
as  a  matter  of  course.  He  was  too  unreliable, 
too  prone  to  "  fly  the  coop "  when  his  party 
needed  to  count  most  on  his  blind  loyalty.  He 
could  not  be  depended  on  to  rule  in  the  inter 
est  of  his  party,  even  on  essentially  partisan 
measures,  when  such  a  ruling  was  all  that  was 
.  requisite  to  put  these  measures  through.  Even 
when  in  the  last  days  of  the  session  the  cele 
brated  Redistricting  Bill,  well  known  to  have 
been  prepared  under  the  supervision  of  Morgan 
Tunstall  himself,  the  shrewdest  party  leader  in 
the  State,  was  rushed  through  the  Senate  and 
could  as  easily  have  been  rushed  through  the 
House  but  for  Garrard's  obstinacy  in  refusing 


96  The  Opponents 

to  make  a  new  ruling  against  the  rights  of  the 
minority,  he  persisted  in  his  obstinacy,  not 
withstanding  the  fierce  denunciations  of  his 
"treachery"  which  his  course  provoked,  and 
was  thus  responsible  for  the  failure  of  the  bill 
which  was  conceded  to  embody  the  ablest 
scheme  of  gerrymandering  the  State  yet  de 
vised,  and  which,  everybody  knew,  would  un 
questionably  have  prevented  the  possibility  of 
an  opposition  majority  in  the  Legislature. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  course  in  the  Speaker's 
chair  won  him  many  friends  among  those  Ken- 
tuckians  whose  party  affiliation  was  influenced 
by  something  more  than  association  and  pre 
judice,  bigotry  or  lack  of  real  conviction,  upon 
whom  the  ties  of  mere  party  regularity  were 
becoming  loose,  and  who  were  beginning  to 
cast  their  votes,  despite  the  contempt  of  the 
"  party  liners,"  as  the  involved  issue,  rather 
than  the  party  name  and  the  party  hacks, 
dictated.  These  Kentuckians  were  even  then 
making  themselves  felt,  however  slightly,  and 
since  then  they  have  so  increased  and  have  so 
asserted  themselves  that  Kentucky  cannot 
always  be  counted  on  with  certainty  by  either 
of  the  old  political  parties  with  their  appeals  to 
petty  passions  and  inherited  ignorance,  and 


The  Issue  Joined  97 

with  their  inspiring  aims  to  put  the  "  ins  "  out 
and  the  "  outs "  into  offices  whose  salaries, 
small  though  they  may  be,  are  much  greater 
than  most  of  the  incumbents  earn  or  expect  to 
earn  elsewhere. 

Sidney  Garrard's  refusal  to  consider  the 
Speakership  as  first  of  all  a  party  appendage 
and  instrument  had  brought  upon  him  such 
criticism  and  aspersion  from  those  of  the  "  reg 
ulars  "  who  have  no  claims  upon  any  party  ex 
cept  regularity  that  his  term  in  the  Legislature 
no  sooner  expired  than,  with  his  spirit  of  resent 
ment  and  belligerency  aroused,  he  defiantly 
announced  his  purpose  to  seek  an  election  to 
Congress. 

Within  twenty-four  hours  after  the  publica 
tion  of  this  announcement  Sidney  Garrard, 
riding  by  Tunstall  Paddocks,  was  hailed  by 
Morgan  Tunstall  and  urged  to  stop  and  smoke 
a  cigar  with  him. 

"  I  wish  particularly  to  have  a  talk  with  you, 
Sid,  and  I  was  going  to  hunt  you  up  to-day  for 
that  purpose." 

Tunstall  had   spent   more  and  more  of  his 

time  in  recent  years  at  his  country  place,  which, 

indeed,  he  now  made  his  home,  and  though  it 

was  April,  earlier  by  two  months  than  he  usu- 

7 


98  The  Opponents 

ally  appeared  there,  Garrard  was  not  surprised 
to  see  him.  Garrard  had  been  long  enough  "  in 
politics  "  to  be  proof  against  surprise  at  any  of 
Tunstall's  appearances  or  disappearances. 

The  two  sat  on  the  porch  just  where,  Gar 
rard  remembered,  Margaret  Helm  had  sat  four 
years  before  as  she  listened  to  Hugh  Letcher's 
story  of  Tunstall.  Garrard  was  thinking  more 
of  how  Margaret  Helm  looked  as  she  sat  there 
than  he  was  speculating  about  Tunstall's  object 
in  seeking  this  interview. 

Tunstall  was  not  long  in  coming  to  the  point. 

"  Sid,"  he  said,  in  his  straightforward  way, 
"  I  have  brought  you  here  to  ask  you  to  re 
consider  your  intention  to  run  for  Congress." 

Garrard  turned  his  eyes  upon  Tunstall  with 
an  expression  of  curiosity. 

"  The  fact  is,  Sid,  I  am  going  to  run  myself, 
and  both  of  us  can't  be  elected." 

Garrard's  short  laugh  was  boyish  and  frank. 

"  I  Ve  never  counted  on  not  having  strong 
opposition,  Mr.  Tunstall,"  he  replied. 

"  I  expect  to  win,  Sid.  I  've  never  gone  in 
for  office  before,  and  I  can't  afford  to  lose 
now." 

"  So  far  as  you  are  personally  concerned,  Mr. 
Tunstall,  I  should  hate  to  see  you  lose,  but  it 


The  Issue  Joined  99 

seems  to  me  that  personal  considerations  enter 
very  little  into  the  matter." 

"  There  's  where  you  are  mistaken.  You  have 
been  provoked  into  making  this  race  because 
you  want  a  personal  vindication  of  your  course 
as  Speaker.  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  have 
not  the  highest  conception  of  a  Congressman's 
duty  and  the  highest  purpose  to  do  that  duty. 
As  for  me,  I  confess  candidly  that  I  am  influ 
enced  by  personal  considerations  entirely  in 
this  instance.  I  have  mapped  out  a  plan  for 
the  employment  of  my  personal  energies  for 
eight  or  ten  years,  and  a  term  in  the  next  Con 
gress  is  the  first  step  in  that  plan." 

"  If  you  insist  on  emphasizing  the  personal 
side  of  my  case,"  Garrard  said  reflectively,  "  it 
seems  to  me  you  make  it  imperative  that  I 
fight  it  out  to  the  end  —  and  all  the  more  im 
perative  if  you  are  to  be  my  opponent." 

"  I  see.  I  thought  you  would  say  something 
like  that.  It  is  in  keeping  with  the  fine  and 
quixotic  ideas  with  which  you  have  entered 
politics.  It  sounds  manly.  It  is  manly.  You 
can  make  a  stirring  and  eloquent  campaign 
with  it.  But  you  have  no  chance  to  win  with 
it,  Sid;  and  if  you  lose  under  such  circum 
stances  it  will  be  almost  impossible  for  you  to 


ioo  The  Opponents 

make  another  start.  And  you  are  too  young 
to  end  your  political  career  before  it  is  fairly 
begun." 

"I  may  have  no  chance  to  win,  as  you  say, 
Mr.  Tunstall ;  but  certainly  I  can  have  no 
chance  if  I  do  not  take  one,  however  hopeless 
it  may  seem.  What  you  say  about  practical 
expediency  may  be  true,  and  I  may  end  my 
political  career  by  continuing  in  this  race,  but, 
really,  I  have  no  desire  for  a  political  career  on 
any  other  ideas  than  those  which  you  call  quix 
otic,  and  if  I  should  withdraw  now,  under  the 
—  the  existing  conditions,  I  do  not  believe  I 
could  ever  have  enough  self-respect  again  to 
try  to  make  another  start." 

"  I  can  assure  you,  Sid,  that  the  '  chance ' 
which  you  propose  to  take  is  hopeless.  It  is 
several  years  too  soon  for  any  man  to  make  a 
winning  race  in  Kentucky  on  the  lines  you 
expect  to  follow.  The  time  may  come  when 
there  will  be  enough  voters  in  this  State  who 
do  their  own  thinking  to  elect  a  Congressman, 
but  that  time  is  not  yet.  Don't  deceive  yourself 
that  it  is,  because  you  have  found  that  a  great 
many  of  them  approved  your  course  in  the 
Legislature.  All  those  estimable  people  don't 
live  in  this  Congressional  district.  You  might 


The  Issue  Joined  101 

give  me  a  good  fight  in  Luttroll  County,  but 
there  are  a  dozen  other  counties  in  the  district 
in  which  your  personal  popularity  won't  count 
for  so  much.  Those  counties  are  all  dominated 
by  the  old  school  of  politics.  They  are  Demo 
cratic  to-day  for  no  better  reason  than  that  they 
were  Democratic  twenty-five  or  thirty  years 
ago,  and  that  it  has  never  been  considered 
good  form  since  the  war  to  be  anything  but 
Democratic.  They  are  Democratic  for  no  better 
reason  than  the  mountain  counties  could  give 
for  being  Republican.  Their  political  duties 
make  but  little  demand  on  them.  They  allow 
the  wire-pullers  to  control  their  primaries  and 
conventions,  and  they  religiously  '  vote  the 
ticket '  which  the  wire-pullers  name.  That  is 
why  it  will  be  easy  for  me  to  beat  you,  Sid." 

"  Then  it  is  not  particularly  material  to  you 
whether  I  withdraw  or  not,"  Garrard  laughed. 

"  People  who  don't  know  me  as  well  as  you 
do  might  infer  that  I  was  making  a  clumsy 
argument  in  my  own  behalf.  I  want  you  to 
withdraw  for  two  reasons.  One  is  that  it  would 
save  me  considerable  work  in  organizing  the 
district ;  the  other  is  that  it  would  save  you  a 
needless  defeat.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to 
tell  you  that  I  have  liked  you  ever  since  you 


IO2  The  Opponents 

were  a  young  boy,  and  I  wish  to  see  you  suc 
ceed  —  where  you  do  not  insist  on  crossing  my 
own  path.  Perhaps  it  will  be  news  to  you  that, 
though  I  have  called  you  quixotic,  and  though 
you  obstructed  some  of  my  plans,  your  conduct 
in  the  Legislature  had  no  greater  admirer  than 
I.  It  was  splendid,  though  it  was  premature. 
When  the  new  order  of  things  comes  in  Ken 
tucky  your  day  may  come  with  it,  unless  you 
rashly  sacrifice  yourself  to  prematureness. 
Don't  do  it.  Wait  a  little.  Your  day  could 
not  come  yet,  even  if  mine  were  not  at  hand, 
but  when  it  does  come  it  will  be  a  better  day 
than  mine.  If  I  were  your  age  I  might  choose 
the  road  you  have  chosen,  but  as  it  is  I  must 
reach  my  ends  by  the  road  which  I  know,  and 
which,  as  yet,  is  the  only  road  to  those  ends. 
You  are  thirty ;  I  shall  be  fifty  before  you  are 
thirty-five.  It  will  be  an  advantage  to  you  to 
wait;  I  cannot  afford  to  wait.  As  yet  the  old 
order  of  things  obtains  in  Kentucky.  That  is 
for  me,  not  for  you.  You  and  your  followers 
call  me  a  boss  of  the  machine.  Well,  political 
parties  in  this  State  are  to-day  merely  soulless 
machines,  and  move  aimlessly  —  except  to 
antagonize  each  other  —  only  as  they  are 
moved  by  those  who  understand  how  to 


The  Issue  Joined  103 

operate  machines.  The  Democratic  machine 
is  the  bigger,  and  I  think  I  have  now  got  to  a 
position  where  I  can  reach  and  hold  the 
throttle-valve.  Why  throw  yourself  in  front  of 
the  engine  ?  If  I  were  not  so  sure  of  the  result, 
and  if  I  did  not  have  a  real  regard  for  you,  I 
should  prefer  that  you  remain  on  the  track. 
It  was  you  who  made  the  issue  with  the  machine 
in  the  Legislature ;  if  there  is  to  be  a  continu 
ance  of  that  issue  it  would  signalize  the  su 
premacy  of  the  machine  if  the  representative 
of  the  opposition  it  is  to  crush  should  be  you." 

Tunstall  relighted  his  cigar,  and  Garrard, 
who  had  been  thoughtfully  watching  the  smoke- 
rings  from  his  own  lips,  turned  his  eyes  upon 
his  companion  and  replied : 

"  I  think  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Tunstall, 
and  I  am  grateful,  honestly,  for  your  consider 
ation  for  me ;  but  I  can't  see  the  question  of 
expediency  as  you  do,  and  I  can't  do  other 
wise  than  make  the  best  fight  I  know  how." 

"All  right,  Sid,"  Tunstall  answered  with  a 
tone  of  finality.  "  I  felt  almost  sure  this  would 
be  your  decision,  and  I  'm  genuinely  sorry  that 
it  is ;  for  there  is  no  one  in  the  district  I  should 
not  prefer  to  fight." 

Garrard  extended  his  hand  impulsively. 


IO4  The  Opponents 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Tunstall,"  he  said;  "it 
would  be  a  great  thing  if  we  could  fight  on  the 
same  side  some  time." 

"On  your  side?"  smiled  Tunstall,  as  he 
grasped  the  other's  hand. 

Garrard  laughed  confession. 

"  Perhaps,  Sid ;  but  at  present  it  would  be  a 
losing  fight;  and,  unlike  you,  I  cannot  find 
glory  in  defeat." 

The  two  sat  long  after  that,  talking  of  other 
things ;  and  when  Garrard  finally  left,  Tunstall 
watched  him  ride  away  and  smoked  another 
cigar  meditatively. 

Tunstall  had  been  insincere  in  nothing  he 
had  said  to  Garrard.  Considering  the  disparity 
of  their  ages,  the  two  were  good  friends.  The 
older  man,  especially,  was  fond  of  the  younger, 
what  appealed  to  him  most  in  Sidney  Garrard 
being  the  very  qualities  lacking  in  himself  — 
youthful  enthusiasm,  optimism,  and  the  impol 
itic  audacity  with  which  the  untried  Speaker 
had  refused  to  obey  the  mandates  of  the  party 
organization  when  he  believed  them  wrong, 
even  though  he  owed  his  election  to  the  Speak- 
ership  to  that  organization.  Tunstall  knew 
that  the  most  effective  way  to  confirm  his  own 
power  in  this  organization  was  to  administer  a 


The  Issue  Joined  105 

decisive  defeat  to  the  man  who  had  refused  to 
use  his  office  —  received  from  the  party  —  to 
further  the  enactment  of  the  party's  chief 
strategic  measure.  He  was  sure  that  it  would 
be  easy  to  administer  such  a  defeat;  yet  he 
preferred,  such  was  his  liking  for  Garrard,  that 
he  should  stand  aside  and  not  invite  this  chas 
tisement.  Some  time,  when  the  spirit  of  inde 
pendence  was  less  aggressive  in  Garrard  and 
stronger  in  the  party,  there  might  be  a  future 
for  him,  but  there  was  small  promise  of  a 
future  if  he  insisted  on  making  an  issue  now  of 
his  independence. 

Tunstall,  though  like  most  politicians  of  his 
type  he  would  do  many  things  in  politics  that 
he  would  not  think  of  doing  outside  of  politics, 
was  neither  dishonest  nor  corrupt.  He  had 
taken  up  politics  as  divertisement.  He  liked 
activity  and  power.  He  believed  in  himself, 
his  own  integrity  and  ability,  more  than  he 
believed  in  the  leaders  or  even  the  rank  and 
file  of  political  parties.  When  he  entered  the 
"  game  "  he  did  not  insist  on  introducing  a  new 
deck  of  cards  of  his  own  invention.  He  played 
it  with  the  cards  at  hand.  He  saw  that  one 
party  was  all-powerful  in  the  State,  and  he  set 
himself  to  make  that  party  his  instrument. 


106  The  Opponents 

Heretofore  he  had  been  satisfied  with  winning, 
with  putting  into  office  men  of  his  own  selec 
tion.  But  he  had  finally  reached  a  point  where 
this  palled  on  him.  He  wanted  a  new  and 
wider  scope  for  his  energies.  He  could  not 
find  it  in  doing  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
in  the  State.  His  eyes  turned  to  the  National 
stage  of  action.  He  saw  there  a  vast  stage, 
indeed,  poorly  filled  by  figures  most  of  whom 
he  knew  to  be  much  smaller  than  himself,  blind 
to  their  opportunities  for  statesmanship  and 
impotent  to  seize  them  if  they  could  have  seen 
them.  When  Sidney  Garrard  was  elected 
Speaker  of  the  lower  house  of  the  Legislature 
Tunstall  had  determined  that  he  would  go  to 
the  United  States  Senate,  and  that  the  next 
election  for  United  States  Senator,  four  years 
ahead,  should  give  him  his  credentials.  His 
first  step  was  the  Redistricting  Bill,  by  which 
the  Legislature  was  to  be  made  sure  for  his 
party  against  any  possible  encroachment. 
That  had  unexpectedly  failed  through  Gar- 
rard's  obstinacy,  but  the  failure  was  of  little  real 
consequence.  It  would  be  almost  impossible, 
even  under  the  existing  apportionment,  for  the 
Democrats  to  lose  control  of  the  Legislature. 
The  work  before  Tunstall  was  to  maintain  his 


The  Issue  Joined  107 

party  leadership  and  to  lend  a  vigilant  scrutiny 
to  the  selection  of  the  Democratic  majority  in 
the  new  Legislature.  In  the  mean  time  he 
would  add  to  his  prestige  and  begin  his  public 
life  with  a  term  in  the  lower  branch  of  Congress. 
If  Sidney  Garrard  persisted  in  getting  in  Tun- 
stall's  way  here  also,  the  result  could  only  add 
further  to  Tunstall's  prestige.  Nevertheless, 
he  was  sorry  for  Garrard,  and  would  have  been 
pleased  if  he  had  been  prudent  enough  to  retire 
from  the  field. 


A  WINNING  AND   LOSING  SPEECH 

GARRARD  had  not  seen  Margaret  Helm  since 
her  visit  to  Florence  Letcher,  nearly  four  years 
before.  He  had  made  it  convenient  to  pass 
through  Virginia,  a  few  months  after  Margaret's 
departure  from  Kentucky,  and  he  had  left  the 
train  at  the  little  town  in  which  she  lived,  but 
when  he  called  at  her  home  he  learned  that  she 
was  at  the  death-bed  of  Elsie  Russell,  and  he 
continued  his  journey  without  any  further  effort 
to  see  Margaret.  He  knew,  from  an  occasional 
remark  of  Margaret  herself  and  from  the  less 
reserved  testimony  of  Florence  Letcher,  that 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  Margaret  was  so 
devoted  as  to  Elsie  Russell,  and  he  felt  that 
even  to  recall  his  existence  to  Margaret  then 
would  be  an  inconsiderate  intrusion.  Shortly 
after  Elsie's  death,  Margaret,  in  her  grief,  had 
gone  abroad,  where  she  had  remained  for  over 
three  years.  It  was  only  this  spring  that  she 
had  returned,  and  Garrard  was  planning  to 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      109 

repeat  his  journey  through  Virginia  when 
Florence  Letcher  revitalized  the  world  by  telling 
him  that  Margaret  was  coming  to  Kentucky 
soon  for  another  visit. 

She  came  before  Garrard,  as  he  had  under 
stood  Florence,  had  expected.  He  had  been 
making  a  ten  days'  speaking  tour  of  some  of 
the  adjoining  counties,  and  he  had  returned 
just  in  time  to  fill  his  appointment  at  Plover. 
The  crowd  had  already  assembled  around  the 
wooden  stand,  erected  in  the  grove  in  front  of 
the  little  church.  He  was  in  excellent  spirits 
as  he  rode  up.  His  ten  days'  trip  had  been 
most  encouraging.  He  knew  that  he  had  made 
votes  and  gained  ground  that  Tunstall  would 
have  never  thought  of  conceding  him.  He  and 
Blitzen  were  fresh  from  an  inspiriting  canter  of 
a  dozen  miles  in  the  breeze-stirred,  perfume- 
breathing  May  morning,  along  spongy  dirt 
roads  and  smooth  turnpikes.  Leaving  Blitzen 
and  pausing  only  to  speak  to  Kate  Cockerill, 
who,  with  some  friends,  was  seated  in  a  surrey 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  Garrard  sprang 
upon  the  improvised  platform,  greeted  by  hand 
claps,  cheers,  and  familiar  personal  invocations. 
Several  of  the  party  leaders  had  seats  on  the 
stand,  prominent  among  them  being  John  W. 


iio  The  Opponents 

Driggs,  Squire  Bodine,  and  Shelby  Letcher,  who 
assumed  these  positions  because  it  was  a  Demo 
cratic  speaking  —  Garrard  having  announced 
his  candidacy  "  subject  to  the  action  of  the 
Democratic  party"  —  and  not  because  they 
were  committed  to  the  support  of  the  speaker. 
Indeed,  it  was  doubted  that  any  one  of  this 
trio  would  "  come  out "  for  Garrard.  John  W. 
Driggs  certainly  would  not,  unless  Garrard 
could  demonstrate  that  his  chance  was  better 
to  win  than  Tunstall's;  Squire  Bodine  would 
follow  Driggs ;  while  it  was  known  that  Shelby 
Letcher  had  never  been  able  to  understand 
how  one  to  whom  he  had  so  fondly  expounded 
the  doctrines  of  "  Democracy  unterrified  and 
undefiled"  had  wandered  astray  as  Sidney 
Garrard  had  wandered  as  Speaker  of  the  House. 
Indeed,  Shelby  Letcher  was  heard  to  address 
the  young  man  occasionally  now  as  "  Mr.  Gar 
rard  "  instead  of  "  Sid." 

The  audience  was  one  to  stimulate  Garrard 
to  his  best.  It  was  made  up  of  people  who 
had  known  him  all  his  life,  who  had  liked  him 
and  laughed  at  him,  but  who  now,  having  seen 
that  there  was  more  in  him  than  they  had 
merely  liked  or  laughed  at,  were  disposed  to 
consider  him  more  seriously.  There  were  some 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      1 1 1 

who  had  begun  to  take  a  pride  in  him,  as  "  a 
Luttroll  County  boy,"  because  of  his  growing 
reputation,  although  not  all  of  these  could  rec 
oncile  themselves  to  his  occasional  tendency 
to  irreverence  of  party  traditions  and  discipline. 
He  had  been  speaking  for  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes,  and  he  could  see  that  he  was  making 
a  good  impression.  The  young  men  in  the 
andience  were  particularly  responsive.  A  group 
of  them,  led  by  Nixon,  was  the  centre  of  the 
applause.  Dunk  Peabody,  who  had  climbed 
to  the  limb  of  a  tree,  was  frantically  waving  his 
hat  and  his  heels,  and  although  the  speech  had 
in  no  way  touched  on  Dunk's  hobby,  at  every 
point  well  received  by  those  below  him  he  was 
jubilantly  yelling  out :  "  Tha'  's  the  ticket,  Sid- 
die  !  Give  it  to  the  plutycrats !  Hit  'em 
ag'in!"  There  was  a  slight  stir  on  the  edge 
of  the  crowd  as  a  carriage  drew  up,  and  an 
other  voice  swallowed  that  of  Dunk  Peabody 
with  a  cry  of  "  Hurrah  for  Tunstall !  "  The 
cry  was  repeated  by  several  other  robust 
throats,  and  looking  in  that  direction,  Garrard 
saw  Morgan  Tunstall's  high  English  phaeton, 
and  Tunstall,  who  held  the  reins,  making  a 
quick,  imperious  gesture  that  instantly  quelled 
the  noisy  greeting  of  his  partisans. 


112  The  Opponents 

By  Tunstall's  side  was  Mrs.  Letcher,  and 
Garrard,  following  Tunstall's  smiling  glance 
as  he  turned  to  speak  to  some  one  on  the  rear 
seat,  faltered  in  the  middle  of  one  of  his  strong 
est  periods  as  he  saw  that  Tunstall's  answering 
smile  was  from  Margaret  Helm,  who  with 
Florence  Letcher  completed  Tunstall's  party. 

For  two  seconds  Garrard's  heart  seemed 
locked ;  his  voice  fluttered  and  his  strong 
period  died  away  incoherently  and  indistinctly. 
The  argument  that  he  was  developing  had 
snapped  short  and  left  him  without  a  foothold  ; 
the  train  of  thought  that  he  was  following  had 
ended  in  an  abrupt  blank  into  which  his  words 
stumbled  weakly  and  aimlessly.  It  was  Dunk 
Peabody  who  seemed  to  save  him  from  what 
some  of  his  friends  feared  was  a  threatened 
and  inexplicable  "  break-down." 

"Thes  you  all  wait  tell  he  gits  good  an* 
ready,"  shouted  Dunk ;  "  then  fare  you  well, 
Mr.  Plutycrats ! " 

Garrard  looked  up  at  Dunk  with  a  laugh, 
and  then  glancing  again  at  Margaret  Helm, 
met  her  eyes  for  the  first  time  and  was  thrilled 
by  what  he  thought  he  saw  in  them  —  an  ex 
pression  of  bewilderment  and  of  concern  lest 
he  acquit  himself  disappointingly. 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      1 1  3 

But  he  had  caught  his  mental  balance  now, 
and  he  proceeded  with  his  speech  consistently 
and  with  good  effect.  Indeed,  after  his  mo 
mentary  stumble,  he  seemed  to  have  gathered 
himself  together  for  a  more  vigorous  effort, 
and  his  gain  in  fervor  and  force  was  so  notable 
that  a  reporter  for  a  Louisville  paper,  who  had 
followed  him  on  his  round  of  appointments, 
wrote  that  "after  he  was  fairly  warmed  up,  his 
Plover  speech  was  by  odds  the  best  that  Mr. 
Garrard  has  yet  delivered."  If  the  reporter 
had  understood  the  explanation  he  might  have 
added,  with  characteristic  flippancy  and  per 
spicacity — "  thanks  though  it  be  to  the  pres 
ence  among  his  auditors  of  one  who  could  not 
even  vote  for  him." 

Determined  as  he  was  that  a  Luttroll  County 
audience  should  not  have  cause  to  be  ashamed 
of  him,  and  bending  all  his  energies  to  that 
end,  Garrard  yet  had  the  practical  speaker's 
facility  for  noting  and  apprehending  incidental 
accompaniments  of  his  speech's  reception  with 
out  deflecting  or  weakening  the  course  of  his 
thought.  He  realized  that  among  the  young 
men  around  Nixon  who  were  making  such 
demonstrations  in  his  favor  was  the  heartiest 
sympathy  that  he  aroused,  and  that  to  such 
8 


H4  The  Opponents 

as  these  he  must  look  mainly  for  the  success  of 
the  movement  in  which  he  had  enlisted.  He 
realized  that  among  many  of  the  older  farmers 
there  were  admiration  for  him  as  a  youngster 
they  had  always  liked,  admiration  for  his 
powers  as  a  speaker,  and  only  partial  compre 
hension  of  the  points  he  sought  to  press  and 
sometimes  even  less  acceptance  of  them.  He 
realized  that  Dunk  Peabody,  on  his  perch  in 
the  tree,  was  becoming  more  and  more  mysti 
fied  why  the  climax  of  pitching  into  the  pluto 
crats  was  not  reached,  and  more  and  more 
impatient  that  it  should  be  reached.  Most 
clearly  of  all  he  realized,  every  moment,  the 
presence  of  Margaret  Helm.  Turn  which  way 
he  would,  the  one  face  in  the  throng  that  he 
saw,  or  subconsciously  felt,  was  hers,  more 
beautiful  than  he  had  known  it  before,  with  the 
softer,  deeper  beauty  that  sorrow  and  four 
years  of  life  had  added  to  it.  He  knew  that 
she  listened  to  him  and  watched  him  atten 
tively;  that  she  was  not  disappointed  in  his 
speech ;  that  once  she  and  Kate  Cockerill  ex 
changed  glances  in  which  there  was  something 
very  different  from  disappointment.  (It  was 
immediately  after  this  that  he  rose  to  what  the 
reporter  described  as  "  his  finest  flight  of  elo- 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      1 1 5 

quence,"  which  so  excited  Dunk  Peabody  that 
he  lost  his  tree  and  in  his  fall  crushed  into  a 
cockade  that  well-known  and  long-known  land 
mark  of  the  community,  Hi  Jaynes'  Sunday 
"  stove-pipe.")  Moreover,  long  before  he  had 
finished  his  speech,  he  understood  that  Marga 
ret  Helm  and  Morgan  Tunstall  were  on  good 
terms,  —  very  good,  considering  that  they  could 
have  known  each  other  hardly  more  than  a 
week.  Tunstall  turned  to  Margaret  frequently 
with  a  nod  of  approval  or  a  word  of  comment 
on  the  speech.  Garrard  noticed  that  each 
quickly  looked  at  the  other,  as  they  applauded, 
as  for  confirmation  of  a  good  opinion.  It  was 
after  cumulative  evidence  of  this  that  the 
orator  launched  into  what  some  of  his  friends 
deprecated  as  a  needlessly  impolitic  passage, 
noted  by  the  reporter  as  "  a  savage  onslaught 
on  hide-bound  Bourbonism,  in  which  he  boldly 
proclaimed  that  he  pitched  his  campaign  on 
the  living  issues  of  the  present,  and  that  he 
wanted  the  votes  of  no  man  because  of  the 
politics  of  that  man's  grandfather,  or  because 
that  man  wore  either  the  blue  or  the  gray,  or 
was  the  son  of  a  man  who  wore  the  blue  or  the 
gray,  in  a  war  that  was  fought  and  ended  be 
fore  he  (Garrard)  was  born." 


116  The  Opponents 

He  concluded  his  speech  very  simply.  "  I 
have  tried  to  present  to  you  clearly,"  he  said, 
"  the  grounds  on  which  I  ask  this  nomination 
for  Congress.  I  have  tried  to  explain  to  you 
distinctly  why  I  am  a  Democrat  and  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  best  interests  of  the  party 
and  the  country.  If  you  will  allow  me  to  revise 
that  phrase,  I  will  say  the  best  interests  of  the 
country  and  the  party.  With  me  the  country 
shall  always  have  precedence  over  any  party.  I 
am  a  Democrat,  but  before  that  I  am  an  Ameri 
can  ;  I  am  a  Southerner,  but  above  that  I  am 
an  American ;  I  am  a  Kentuckian,  but  some  of 
my  old  friends  here  may  call  it  treason  when  I 
say  that  were  the  choice  forced  on  me,  and  I 
could  not  be  both  an  American  and  a  Ken 
tuckian,  then  I  should  proudly  be  an  Ameri 
can."  ("  I  be  Tom  Walkered  if  he  ain't  gone 
back  on  States  Rights !  "  growled  Shelby 
Letcher  to  Squire  Bodine.)  "  I  have  been 
told  by  those  who  wish  to  see  me  win  this  race 
that  I  am  guilty  of  bad  politics  —  that  I  am  un 
necessarily  imprudent  in  declaring  my  views, 
in  answering  questions  that  are  not  asked  me 
—  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  no  right  to 
your  votes,  nor  could  I  wish  them,  without 
frankly  revealing  the  grounds  on  which  I  seek 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      117 

this  nomination  and  election ;  and  my  one  aim 
this  afternoon  has  been  to  be  unreservedly 
frank." 

As  Garrard  finished  and  turned  to  leave  the 
stand,  Squire  Bodine,  who  had  risen,  with  the 
other  distinguished  occupants  on  the  platform, 
held  out  his  hand,  as  a  matter  of  habit  on  such 
occasions. 

"  You  made  a  good  speech,  Sid,"  he  said ; 
"  about  as  good  as  could  be  made  for  your 
side  of  the  case,  I  reckon :  but  I  'm  afraid  you 
have  n't  made  many  votes  by  it." 

"  There  's  one  he 's  lost,"  confessed  Shelby 
Letcher, "  and  I  'm  sorry  of  it.  I  Ve  been  hold 
ing  off  till  I  heard  this  speech,  Sidney,  but  I  '11 
have  to  come  out  for  Tunstall  now.  I  'm  too 
old  a  dog  to  learn  new  tricks." 

"  I  Ve  never  supposed  you  would  not  be  for 
Tunstall,  Mr.  Letcher,"  Garrard  said,  as  he 
helped  the  old  gentleman  down  the  rude  steps 
of  the  stand.  "  I  'm  sorry,  too ;  but  I  '11  have 
to  be  satisfied  with  dividing  the  family  with 
Tunstall.  Hugh  is  for  me." 

"  And  I  believe  Florence  is  for  you.  Still  it 
may  yet  be  a  tie  between  you  and  Tunstall 
over  at  the  Tavern.  There 's  Margaret,  you 
know,"  smiling  drily ;  "  I  don't  believe  she 's 


1 1 8  The  Opponents 

made  up  her  mind  between  you  two  yet,  but 
Tunstall  has  been  carrying  on  a  pretty  strong 
campaign  at  the  Tavern  while  you  were  out  in 
the  district." 

Garrard  felt  his  face  burning  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"Tunstall's  campaigns  are  always  strong," 
he  smiled  back  at  the  old  fellow. 

Others  were  crowding  around  Garrard  to 
speak  to  him,  and  Nixon  and  his  satellites 
were  so  demonstrative  that  Garrard  could 
not  see  whether  Tunstall's  party,  in  whose 
direction  he  was  trying  to  make  his  way,  had 
yet  driven  off.  Dunk  Peabody  also  lounged 
up,  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  his  counte 
nance  a  ludicrous  compromise  between  un 
certainty  and  exultation. 

"  By  Ned  ! "  he  drawled,  "  we  did  give  'em 
holy  smoke,  did  n't  we,  Sid?  " 

"  Never  say  die,  Dunk !  "  shouted  some 
one.  "  Maybe  he'll  get  to  the  plutycrats  next 
time !  " 

Tunstall  himself  was  now  pressing  Garrard's 
hand,  and  was  saying,  in  the  quiet,  straight 
forward  way  which  would  have  carried  convic 
tion  of  the  speaker's  sincerity  even  if  Garrard 
had  known  him  so  poorly  as  to  doubt  it : 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      119 

"  It  was  a  good  speech,  Sidney  —  the  best 
this  crowd  has  ever  heard.  In  fact,  it  was  so 
much  too  good  for  the  most  of  us,"  a  smile 
lighting  his  eyes,  "  that  I  think  it  will  make  as 
many  votes  for  me  as  for  you.  But  come  with 
me.  There  are  some  friends  of  yours  over 
here  who  are  waiting  to  congratulate  you." 

"On  making  votes  for  you?"  Garrard  an 
swered,  laughing  shortly,  as  he  went  with  Tun- 
stall  toward  the  ladies.  He  felt  that  it  was  a 
small  and  ungracious  spirit  which  his  retort 
showed,  but  for  the  time  he  did  not  regret  it. 
That  was  the  spirit  which  Tunstall  had  aroused 
in  him. 

"  I  fear  not,"  was  Tunstall's  reply.  "  You 
could  never  make  too  good  a  speech  for  that 
part  of  your  audience." 

Garrard,  as  he  walked  forward  with  Tunstall, 
did  not  try  to  shake  off  this  petty  spirit.  There 
is  a  perverse  satisfaction,  akin  to  luxury,  in  the 
lapse,  on  certain  provocations,  of  natures  which 
are  far  from  petty  themselves  into  conscious 
and  unashamed  pettiness.  In  some  such  mood 
Garrard  inwardly  resented  the  part  that  Tun 
stall  was  playing  this  afternoon.  The  resent 
ment  began  the  instant  he  had  seen  Tunstall 
here  with  Margaret  Helm.  He  resented  the 


1 20  The  Opponents 

fact  that  at  his  first  sight  of  Margaret  after 
these  four  years  she  should  be  in  the  company 
and  under  the  protection  of  Tunstall.  He  re 
sented  the  fact  that  it  was  to  hear  him  speak 
that  Tunstall  had  brought  Margaret  to  Plover. 
He  resented  the  footing  of  familiarity  with 
Margaret  on  which  Tunstall  seemed  to  have 
placed  himself.  He  resented  the  glances  of 
sympathetic  approbation  that  had  passed  be 
tween  them  as  they  listened  to  his  speech.  He 
resented  the  incident  that  it  was  even  Tunstall 
who  had  sought  him  out  in  the  crowd  to  take 
him  to  this  first  meeting  with  Margaret  after 
so  long  a  separation  —  a  meeting  under  con 
ditions  very  different  from  those  he  had  looked 
forward  to  in  his  four  years'  dreams  of  it. 
He  resented  the  thought  that  had  come  over 
him,  against  his  will,  as  he  saw  Margaret  and 
Tunstall  together,  that  here  were  two  people 
whom  Nature,  in  lavish  mood  and  unerring 
law,  had  fashioned  for  each  other. 

But  he  forgot  his  small  resentments  when  he 
stood  in  Margaret  Helm's  presence  once  more. 
There  was  such  sincere  welcome  in  her  eyes 
and  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke  the  few  simple 
words  of  greeting,  and,  beyond  that,  he  was  so 
sensible  of  something,  in  her  manner,  in  her 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      1 2 1 

tone,  which  seemed  to  indicate  a  new  and  more 
respectful  attitude  toward  him,  that  all  trivial 
irritation  was  at  once  allayed.  With  Margaret 
Helm  not  only  glad  to  see  him  but  placing 
him  on  a  plane  of  manhood  which  he  had  felt 
she  had  never  quite  conceded  him  in  the  old 
days,  the  moment  was  not  one  for  harboring 
trivial  irritations.  For  the  time  Garrard  was 
no  longer  disturbed  by  the  well-meant  officious- 
ness  of  Morgan  Tunstall,  or  by  the  possibility 
of  having  so  formidable  a  competitor  as  Tun- 
stall  in  other  fields  than  politics. 

He  was  glad  that  Margaret  barely  referred 
to  his  speech,  and  then  in  a  lightly  conven 
tional  way.  He  knew  that  she  liked  it.  He 
had  watched  her  so  closely  while  he  was  speak 
ing  that  nothing  she  could  have  said  here,  in 
the  presence  of  Tunstall  and  the  Letchers, 
could  have  indicated  to  him  more  clearly  the 
impression  he  had  made  upon  her,  which,  as 
he  had  already  interpreted  it,  intoxicated  him 
with  triumph,  whether  he  was  to  win  or  lose 
the  race  he  had  entered.  He  would  not  have 
had  her  congratulate  him  here,  even  with  the 
moderate  effusiveness  of  Florence  Letcher,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  extravagant  praise  of  Mrs. 
Letcher. 


122  The  Opponents 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  politics,  Sid 
ney,"  that  lady  exclaimed,  "  and  I  don't  want 
to  know ;  but  I  do  know  the  speech  was  just 
grand,  because  —  because  it  sounded  grand, 
and  because  it  made  me  cry  and  nobody 
noticed  me  do  it  because  everybody  was  pay 
ing  such  close  attention  to  you.  Besides,  Mr. 
Tunstall  says  he  never  heard  a  finer  speech, 
and  Mr.  Tunstall  knows  all  about  such  things ; 
and  Margaret  —  well,  Margaret  does  n't  know 
any  more  about  politics  than  I  do,  but  she 
says  she  understood  every  word  —  I  asked  her 
that  point-blank  —  and  what 's  more,  she  says 
she  does  n't  see  how  your  speech  can  be  an 
swered,  which  is  pretty  hard,  /  think,  on  Mr. 
Tunstall." 

"  It  can't  be  answered,"  Tunstall  smiled, 
"  and  I  shall  not  try.  But  fortunately  for  me, 
as  I  Ve  been  telling  Sidney,  people  are  not 
sent  to  Congress  from  this  district  because 
they  make  unanswerable  speeches." 

Garrard,  promising  himself  that  the  evening 
should  find  him  at  Letcher  Tavern,  mounted 
Blitzen  and  rode  slowly  homeward,  ignoring 
for  once  the  opportunity  for  electioneering 
offered  by  the  unusual  crowd  in  Plover.  He 
had  no  spirit  for  such  work  to-day.  He  had 


A  Winning  and  Losing  Speech      123 

no  thought  of  politics  now.  He  saw  only  the 
lovely  face  that  had  dawned  for  him  on  the 
edge  of  the  rough  crowd  he  had  addressed 
that  afternoon,  and  his  pulses  were  beating 
only  to  the  new  elation  of  Margaret  Helm's 
return. 


XI 


THE    PRELIMINARY  HAND-CLASP 

THE  following  month  was  far  from  satisfactory 
to  Sidney  Garrard.  He  could  have  devoted 
that  month  ardently  to  either  his  political  can 
vass  or  to  Margaret  Helm.  He  tried  to  divide 
it  between  the  two,  and  compromises  were 
never  to  his  liking.  It  was  June  again  now,  but 
a  very  different  June  from  the  one,  four  years 
before,  which  he  had  devoted,  as  much  as  she 
would  let  him,  to  Margaret  Helm.  He  knew 
that  he  could  not  afford  to  allow  his  campaign 
to  lag.  His  only  chance  of  winning  the  nom 
ination  was  in  a  thorough,  vigorous  effort  to 
win  it.  The  district  was  large ;  the  convention 
was  to  be  held  in  August :  it  was  essential  that 
he  should  make  good  use  of  June.  But  it  was 
the  hardest  task  he  had  yet  set  himself —  riding 
over  other  counties  while  Margaret  Helm  was 
in  Luttroll  County,  and  only  there  until  July. 
"Kit,"  he  said  to  Kate  Cockerill  one  day, 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp     125 

with  a  return  of  his  old  boyish  spirit,  "  I'll 
play  you  a  game  of  Suppose." 

"Suppose — "  she  assented,  ever  ready  to 
enter  into  his  humor. 

"  Suppose  a  man  were  in  love  with  a  woman 
—  the  right  sort  of  woman." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  suppose  he  were  in  love  with  —  well, 
going  to  Congress." 

"  I  think  I  might  possibly  make  both  suppo 
sitions,"  Kate  smiled. 

"  Suppose  she  were  where  he  could  see  her 
every  day  or  two  for  a  month,  and  suppose 
that  he  felt  if  he  gave  up  that  month  to  see 
ing  her  he  might  lose  his  chance  for  Congress." 

"Well?" 

"  Suppose  also  that  if  he  did  n't  give  up  that 
month  to  seeing  her  he  felt  that  he  might  lose 
his  chance  for  her." 

"  But  would  n't  it  be  fair  to  suppose,  if  she 
were  '  the  right  sort  of  woman,'  that  by  thus 
throwing  away  his  chance  for  Congress  he 
might  weaken  rather  than  strengthen  his 
chance  for  her?" 

"  You  are  taking  the  game  away  from  me, 
Kit.  I  was  going  to  ask  you  if  such  a  suppo 
sition  might  not  be  in  order." 


I  26  The  Opponents 

"  I  think  it  would  be  —  at  least  with  one  girl 
.  I  know." 

"  Though  it  might  please  her,  in  a  way  that 
women  can't  help  being  pleased,  if  he  threw 
away  all  other  chances  for  the  one  chance  for 
her?" 

"Yes;  but  there  is  a  possibility  that  it  might 
disappoint  her  more  than  it  would  please 
her." 

"  Unless  she  knew  that  the  man  was  abso 
lutely  sure,  he  would  lose  her  if  he  did  not 
throw  away  his  chance  for  Congress  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps.  But  that  supposition  is  not 
permissible  in  this  game,  is  it?  " 

"  Kit,  you  are  a  woman  in  a  million.  You 
always  agree  with  me  perfectly !  If — if  others 
were  more  like  you,  there  would  be  lots  less 
trouble  in  the  world  for  some  people  I  know." 

So  Garrard  kept  most  of  his  campaign  ap 
pointments,  changing  some  of  them  to  regions 
nearer  home,  that  he  might  run  in  and  spend 
an  hour  or  two  at  Letcher  Tavern  at  least  once 
a  week. 

It  was  a  cruel  course  to  hold  himself  to, 
especially  as  it  was  evident  that  Morgan  Tun- 
stall  was  not  risking  any  of  his  chances  for 
Margaret  Helm  by  leaving  her  and  travelling 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp    127 

over  the  district  in  pursuit  of  the  nomination 
for  Congress.  Tunstall  as  yet  had  made  no 
speeches.  He  had  not  proposed  a  speaking 
campaign.  He  relied  upon  other  methods. 
True,  he  recognized  the  fact  that  a  candidacy 
for  Congress  in  Kentucky  was  essentially 
one  that,  from  immemorial  custom,  implied 
a  certain  amount  of  oratory  as  a  matter  of 
course.  He  knew  that  it  was  no  more  ques 
tioned  that  a  candidate  for  Congress  would 
"  take  the  stump  "  than  it  was  doubted  that,  if 
successful,  he  would  be  expected  to  "  take 
care  of  his  friends."  Tunstall  was  too  good 
a  politician  to  ignore  this  tradition  and  condi 
tion  entirely.  He  intended  to  observe  it  to  a 
sufficient  degree  to  satisfy  the  proprieties.  He 
had  announced  his  purpose  to  make  a  few 
speeches  throughout  the  district  in  July.  But 
he  was  not  relying  on  those  speeches  to  secure 
him  the  nomination.  Nor  was  he  waiting  till 
July  to  secure  it.  He  had  taken  quick  trips  in 
May  to  the  various  county  seats,  and  in  June 
several  of  his  lieutenants,  of  whom  John  W. 
Driggs  was  now  one,  had  taken  other  trips 
over  the  district  in  his  interest,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  local  leaders  in  different  counties  who, 
on  special  invitation,  had  paid  Tunstall  quiet 


128  The  Opponents 

visits  at  Tunstall  Paddocks.  Garrard  was  not 
ignorant  of  the  situation.  Wherever  he  went 
he  found  Tunstall's  "  organization "  strong. 
He  discovered  that  a  majority  of  the  local 
"workers"  and  committeemen  —  the  men  who 
were  to  preside,  with  autocratic  authority,  at 
the  opening  of  the  primary  conventions,  and 
who  would  "  organize  "  those  conventions  for 
the  candidate  of  their  choice,  were  already  for 
Tunstall.  Naturally  cheerful  though  Garrard 
was,  there  was  many  a  moment  as  he  made  his 
way  over  the  district  that  hot  and  dusty  June 
when  he  was  sick  at  heart.  He  was  fighting 
an  opponent  who  not  only  seemed  to  have  his 
victory  won,  but  who  was  availing  himself  of 
the  advantage  which  that  gave  him  to  remain 
at  home  and  seek  another  victory,  in  compari 
son  with  which  all  other  victories  were  nothing 
to  Garrard. 

For  Garrard  was  sure  that  Tunstall  intended 
to  do  what  he  could  to  win  Margaret  Helm. 
When  a  man  loves  he  is  ever  ready  to  suspect 
that  every  other  man  loves  the  same  woman ; 
indeed,  he  never  quite  understands  why  every 
other  man  does  not  love  her.  He  is  sure  that 
every  man  does  who  shows  a  partiality  for  her. 
And  Tunstall  had  done  much  more  than  show  a 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp    1 29 

partiality  for  Margaret  Helm.  Since  Garrard 
had  known  him  he  had  had  little  to  do  with 
women ;  certainly  he  had  never  seemed  to  care 
for  one  above  another ;  nor  had  he  given  the 
least  indication  that  he  thought  of  marrying 
again.  But  it  was  evident  to  Garrard  now  that 
Tunstall  intended  to  try  to  marry  Margaret 
Helm.  The  extraordinary  impression  she  had 
made  on  Tunstall ;  the  change  in  the  routine  of 
his  life ;  his  open,  assiduous  proofs  of  his  pref 
erence  for  her  society;  his  attitude  of  respectful 
deference  and  intimate  comradeship ;  his  frank, 
quiet  joy  in  the  new  conditions  that  had  come 
into  his  life,  were  all  noticed  by  Garrard,  little 
as  he  had  been  at  Letcher  Tavern  since  Mar 
garet's  return.  Moreover,  Garrard  was  sure 
that  there  was  something  exceptional  in  Marga 
ret's  liking  for  Tunstall.  Garrard  had  passed 
the  period  when  he  had  feared  no  rival,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  have  no  more  dangerous 
rival  for  such  a  girl  as  Margaret  than  Mor 
gan  Tunstall.  Curiously  distinct  and  insis 
tent  now  was  his  recollection  of  Margaret's 
manner  and  words  four  years  before,  as  she 
had  said,  after  looking  at  the  portrait  of  Tun 
stall  :  "  I  have  never  seen  a  face  that  impressed 
me  more  with  its  strength  and  power.  I  should 
9 


i  30  The  Opponents 

not  like  to  be  either  the  man  or  the  mob  to 
cross  the  will  of  Mr.  Tunstall." 

Garrard  was  not  mistaken.  Tunstall,  for  the 
second  time  in  his  life  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  full  maturity,  loved.  He  had  never  thought 
that  possible  in  all  the  years  since  the  annul 
ment  of  his  marriage.  He  had  gone  his  way, 
among  men,  killing  time  with  his  game  of  pol 
itics,  in  which  the  players  were  always  men. 
Women  had  had  no  place  in  his  personal  rela 
tions  or  purposes.  And  yet  Margaret  Helm  had 
suddenly  taken  such  a  dominant  place  in  them 
as  to  work  a  complete  revolution  in  his  outlook, 
his  desires,  and,  if  not  altogether  in  his  plans, 
in  their  spirit.  He  had  no  thought  of  abandon 
ing  those  plans.  On  the  contrary,  he  would 
follow  them  out  with  a  new  zest.  He  would 
play  his  game  now  not  for  the  mere  love  of 
playing,  not  solely  for  the  exercise  of  power 
and  the  attainment  of  eminence  for  the  better 
exercise  of  power,  but  for  the  exercise  of 
power  that  Margaret  Helm  might  the  more 
respect  him;  for  the  winning  of  honors  that 
Margaret  Helm,  as  his  wife,  might  be  hon 
ored.  If  he  had  been  successful  before,  with 
only  the  tokens  of  the  game  as  stakes,  he 
meant  to  be  —  he  felt  that  he  would  be  —  in- 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp     131 

vincible  with  the  inspiration  of  Margaret's 
pride  and  happiness  to  recreate  him.  It  would 
still  be  something  to  demonstrate  his  power  for 
the  sake  of  demonstrating  it,  but  it  would  be 
more  to  demonstrate  it  for  Margaret's  sake. 
It  would  be  little  enough,  and  yet  the  thought 
of  it  was  a  strange  new  elixir,  to  make  Marga 
ret  the  wife  of  a  Senator,  an  Ambassador,  per 
haps —  Why  not?  Kentucky  will  yet  furnish 
other  Presidents  for  the  Republic. 

Truly  the  fallow  acres  of  Tunstall  Paddocks, 
so  long  run  wild  to  weeds  and  thickets,  had 
not  been  more  signally  metamorphosed  into 
upturned,  fructifying  fields  by  Tunstall's  re 
sumed  management  than  had  been  the  fallow 
soul  of  Tunstall  himself  by  the  influence  of 
Margaret  Helm. 

Sidney  Garrard  postponed  a  speaking  ap 
pointment  in  an  adjoining  county,  in  order  to 
run  down  to  Letcher  Tavern  the  day  before 
that  set  for  Margaret's  departure.  Accom 
panied  by  Mrs.  Letcher  and  Florence,  Margaret 
was  to  leave  for  one  of  the  Alleghany  summer 
resorts  where  she  was  to  remain  until  fall,  and 
where  Garrard  expected  to  take  a  few  weeks' 
rest  after  the  meeting  of  the  convention  to 
nominate  a  candidate  for  Congress.  But  the 


132  The  Opponents 

convention  was  more  than  a  month  in  the 
future,  and  in  the  mean  time  he  would  have  no 
other  opportunity  of  seeing  Margaret  Helm. 
For  once  Garrard  departed  from  his  rule,  and 
the  yeomen  of  the  Big  Bend  district  in  Grier 
County  —  "the  Old  Stamping  Ground  of  the 
True  Blue  Democracy  " —  were  notified  through 
handbills  and  the  county  press  that,  owing  to 
important  changes  in  the  plans  of  the  Hon. 
Sidney  Garrard,  he  would  be  unable  to  address 
them  at  Big  Bend  until  the  third  Tuesday  in 
July. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Garrard 
reached  Letcher  Tavern.  Margaret  and  Flor 
ence,  Shelby  Letcher  and  Tunstall  were  on  the 
lawn.  Tunstall  left  almost  immediately  after 
Garrard  joined  the  group. 

"Walk  with  me  to  the  gate,  Sidney,"  he 
said,  taking  Garrard's  arm,  "and  tell  me  the 
news  from  Grier  County." 

As  the  two  went  slowly  toward  the  gate,  Tun 
stall  showed  a  disposition  to  impart  rather  than 
seek  news. 

"  Better  throw  it  up,  Sidney,"  he  said.  "  It  is 
not  your  time  yet.  You  won't  have  a  delegate 
from  Grier.  You  have  a  good  chance  to  carry 
Trowbridge,  Croxton,  and  Bascom  counties, 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp     133 

and  if  you  can  carry  this  county  and  'the 
Pocket,'  you  '11  be  in  the  race.  This  county 
as  yet  is  uncertain,  but  the  Pocket  is  n't." 

Garrard  smiled.  Tunstall  was  not  so  well 
informed  as  he  thought.  If  Garrard  was  sure 
of  one  thing  about  the  campaign,  it  was  that 
the  Pocket  was  opposed  to  Tunstall.  But  his 
smile  faded  as  Tunstall  went  on: 

"  At  present  the  Pocket  does  not  like 
me.  It  may  even  stand  solidly  against  me 
in  the  convention.  But  it  won't  be  for  you, 
Sidney." 

"  I  think  I  have  some  chance  there,"  Garrard 
replied  modestly. 

"  None  whatever.  I  believe  you  could  beat 
me  there;  but  has  it  never  occurred  to  you 
that  the  Pocket's  delegates  might  go  to  the 
convention  committed  to  neither  of  us,  but 
instructed  for  one  of  the  Pocket's  own  favorite 
sons? " 

Garrard  threw  a  quick  glance  at  Tunstall. 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  I  have  seen  nothing 
to  indicate  that." 

"  But  you  are  likely  to  see  it  at  the  proper 
time.  Don't  you  think  that  such  a  man  as, 
say  Poindexter,  could  control  every  delegate 
from  the  Pocket?" 


134  The  Opponents 

"  I  think  it  very  probable ;  but  Poindexter  is 
not  a  candidate." 

Tunstall  looked  straight  at  Garrard  two 
seconds  before  speaking. 

"  He  will  be  if  I  wish  it." 

"  Ah !  "  Garrard  responded  with  raised  brows, 
after  another  two  seconds.  "  I  see." 

"And  with  Poindexter  holding  the  Pocket 
and  you  having  Trowbridge,  Croxton,  Bascom, 
and  even  Grier  and  Luttroll  counties,  don't 
you  see  that  the  best  you  could  hope  for  would 
be  a  deadlock?" 

"  Your  reasoning  is  fair." 

"  And  there  would  be  only  one  way  to  break 
the  deadlock.  You  could  never  throw  your 
following  to  Poindexter  against  me,  and  you 
would  n't  do  it  if  you  could.  I  should  not 
throw  my  following  to  you,  because  that  would 
not  be  in  the  plan  at  all.  The  one  outcome, 
you  will  agree,  would  be  that  ultimately  Poin 
dexter  would  break  the  deadlock  by  withdraw 
ing  and  giving  me  enough  of  his  votes  to 
nominate  me." 

"Your  reasoning  is  still  fair,"  Garrard 
smiled. 

"  You  see,  from  the  first  I  have  shown  you 
my  hand.  Why  foolishly  try  to  beat  it?  " 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp     135 

"It  is  a  strong  hand,  I  admit;  but  the  only 
way  to  beat  it  is  to  try." 

"  You  are  making  a  good  fight,  Sidney,  and 
against  any  other  opponent  I  should  like  to  see 
you  win.  But  I  am  pretty  sure  you  can't,  and 
I  don't  think  you  really  believe  you  can.  Bet 
ter  quit  now  and  wait  till  another  time." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Tunstall,  but  my  mind  is 
unalterable  on  that  point." 

"  I  have  not  hoped  that  it  was  n't.  Well,  I 
am  sorry.  I  am  downright  sorry,  Sidney.  It 
will  be  a  little  more  work  for  me,  but  I  hate  to 
see  you  make  this  mistake,"  smiling  slightly. 

"  I  understand  you  thoroughly,"  Garrard 
replied,  with  a  touch  of  feeling.  "  I  know  you 
are  actuated  in  what  you  have  said  principally 
by  your  friendship  for  me.  I  am  duly  grate 
ful;  but  we  hold  very  different  views  on  this 
matter,  and  I  must  go  on  as  I  have  begun." 

They  were  now  talking  across  the  gate, 
Tunstall  standing  on  the  outer  side. 

"  All  right,  Sidney.  But  it  was  not  for  this 
that  I  asked  you  to  walk  down  here  with  me. 
We  Ve  got  up  a  little  party  to  show  Miss  Helm 
Mammoth  Cave,  —  Mrs.  Letcher,  your  sister, 
and  Miss  Florence,  Hugh,  Nixon,  and  we  are 
counting  on  you  to  be  the  other  man.  I  should 


136  The  Opponents 

have  written  or  telegraphed  you,  but  the  excur 
sion  was  only  decided  on  yesterday  and  Mrs. 
Cockerill  said  you  would  be  in  to-day.  We 
start  to-morrow  and  expect  to  be  back  in  three 
or  four  days.  You  '11  be  one  of  us,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  I  thought  Miss  Helm  was  to  leave  for  the 
mountains  to-morrow,"  Garrard  answered,  not 
trying  to  conceal  his  surprise. 

"  She  was ;  but  we  convinced  her  that  she 
should  not  leave  Kentucky  without  visiting  the 
cave.  Have  you  ever  seen  the  cave?" 

"  Never." 

"Then  you  can't  afford  to  miss  this  trip. 
You  could  n't  afford  to  miss  it,  any  way, 
Sidney." 

The  two  men  looked  silently  across  the  gate 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  to  be  his  age,"  was  Tunstall's  thought, 
"with  my  life  to  live  over  and  youth  on  my 
side." 

Garrard  was  thinking  of  Margaret  Helm's 
words  four  years  before :  "  I  should  not  like  to 
be  either  the  man  or  the  mob  to  cross  the  will 
of  Mr.  Tunstall ;  "  and  thinking,  further,  that 
his  own  will  and  Tunstall's  were  inflexibly 
crossed  not  once,  but  twice. 


The  Preliminary  Hand-Clasp    137 

"  I  will  go,"  he  finally  replied ;  "  I  shall  be 
glad  to  go." 

They  separated  with  a  hand-clasp,  each  hav 
ing  a  certain  feeling  that  it  was  not  very  differ 
ent  from  the  ceremony  with  which  two  antago 
nists  precede  a  duel  to  the  death. 


XII 

A  HORSE-BLOCK  SYMPOSIUM 

THE  next  day,  Friday,  Garrard  left  with  Tun- 
stall's  party  for  Mammoth  Cave.  The  preceding 
Sunday  there  had  been  some  discussion,  under 
the  trees  around  the  little  Plover  church,  of  a 
matter  that  was  to  complicate  the  uncertainty 
of  Garrard's  securing  the  vote  of  his  home 
county  in  the  convention,  without  which,  as 
was  well  understood,  he  could  have  no  chance 
of  getting  the  nomination.  Eight  or  ten  men 
were  loafing  in  the  grove  to  gossip,  as  was  their 
custom,  before  going  into  the  church. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  one  of  the  group,  as  a 
sleepy  yellow  horse,  drawing  an  old  buggy, 
appeared  around  the  bend  of  the  road.  The 
horse  was  big,  the  buggy  was  low,  and  all  of 
the  driver,  "  Pap  "  Maxey,  that  was  visible  was 
a  soft  drab  hat,  perched  cockily  on  one  side, 
and  beneath  it  a  crinkly  face,  small,  dancing 
eyes,  in  which  the  fountains  of  perpetual  youth 
might  have  bubbled,  and  a  sunken  mouth, 


A  Horse-Block  Symposium    139 

whose  thin  lips,  when  not  parted  in  the  act 
of  talking  or  laughing,  were  incessantly  closed 
and  working  as  if  in  the  act  of  chewing  — 
though  chewing  what,  nobody  had  ever 
discovered. 

"Do  you  reckon  he's  heerd  of  it?"  asked 
one  of  the  men  in  the  church  grove. 

"  Well,  he  won't  say  a  thing  when  he  does 
hear !  "  exclaimed  another. 

"  Naw,  he  won't !  "  agreed  Dunk  Peabody. 
"  He  '11  lay  over  Uncle  Jesse  Craik  when  he 's 
breakin'  a  colt  er  prayin'  fer  rain !  " 

Pap  Maxey  turned  from  the  road  and  pulled 
up  his  horse. 

"  Howdy,  boys,  howdy ! "  he  waved  his 
hand  in  comprehensive  response  to  the  noisy 
salutations  of  the  loungers. 

The  old  man  got  out  of  the  buggy  with  an 
agility  that  belied  his  apparent  years.  Dunk 
Peabody  helped  him  take  the  horse  from  the 
shafts  and  hitched  it  to  the  rack,  during  which 
time  every  one  was  silent  and  Pap  Maxey 
chewed.  Then  he  joined  the  group  under  the 
trees. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  said  in  a  high  voice,  thin 
but  merry,  "  what  devilw^«/  you  scamps  up  to 
now?  I  don't  never  see  Dunk  Peabody 


140  The  Opponents 

so  polite  an'  Uncle  Jesse  Craik  so  pious 
'thout  knowin'  the  Old  Harry's  afoot  somers 
aroun'." 

"Oh,  th1  ain't  nothin'  ailin'  of  us,  Pap 
Maxey,"  answered  Uncle  Jesse  Craik,  him 
self  not  much  younger  than  the  new-comer, 
for  whom  he  made  room  on  the  horse-block. 
"  Some  folks  mout  say  it  was  the  Old  Harry, 
an'  some  folks  mout  n't." 

"  'Nother  toll-gate  done  fer  las'  night,  Pap," 
Dunk  Peabody  volunteered  for  the  crowd. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  assented  Pap  Maxey. 

"Yeh." 

"Which  one  this  time?"  chewing  medita 
tively. 

"Sibley's  Mill,"  hastened  two  or  three 
voices. 

"Ag'in?" 

"  Finished  the  job  this  whirl,  Pap :  cut  down 
the  gate  an'  burnt  down  the  house." 

"How  about  Andy?"  Andy  was  the  gate 
keeper. 

"  Andy,  he  got  mulish,  an'  they  shot  the  durn 
fool  in  the  shoulder." 

"  He 's  laid  up  at  Sibley's,  but  Sibley  says 
the  doctor  says  he'll  pull  th'ough  ef  blood 
p'ison  don't  set  in." 


A  Horse-Block  Symposium    141 

"  Yi,  yi,"  was  Pap  Maxey's  comment,  after 
which  he  went  on  chewing. 

"Ain't  but  one  mo'  gate  in  these  diggin's 
now,  Pap,"  somebody  suggested. 

"  Tha'  's  all  —  Conway's,"  somebody  else 
agreed. 

"  Yonder  comes  Nelse  Tigert  now  !  "  another 
exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  yonder  comes  Nelse  Tigert  now  I " 
Pap  Maxey  repeated,  with  one  of  his  cackling 
little  laughs,  as  his  small  eyes  played  restlessly 
upon  a  tall  muscular  fellow  of  thirty-five  or 
forty  approaching  with  a  stride  whose  freedom 
had  a  touch  of  swagger  in  it. 

Two  or  three  men  had  joined  the  party  since 
Pap  Maxey's  arrival,  without  attracting  any 
special  attention ;  but  it  was  as  if  Nelse 
Tigert's  coming  was  an  event,  and  had  been 
awaited. 

"  Hello,  folks  !  Why,  howdy,  Pap  ?  What 's 
the  good  word  ?  "  he  called  cheerily,  throwing 
himself  down  on  the  grass. 

"  We  was  all  thes  talkin'  about  you,"  Pap 
Maxey  answered  —  "anyhow,  we  was  all  thes 
thinkin'  about  you,  Nelse.  Toe-be-sho,  we  was 
only  talkin'  about  the  raidin'  of  the  gate  at 
Sibley's  Mill." 


142  The  Opponents 

Nelse  joined  in  the  laughter  which  followed 
this.  "Was  you  there,  Pap?  Tell  us  all 
about  it." 

"  Ef  I  had  'a'  been,  Nelse  Tigert,  they  'd  'a' 
been  mo'  'n  Andy  got  shot." 

"  Andy's  all  right,  Pap,"  Nelse  assured  him. 
"  I  thes  come  by  Sibley's.  Still  somebody 
oughter  be  bucked  fer  shootin'  the  galoot; 
same  time,  Andy  oughter  be  bucked  fer  bein' 
a  galoot." 

"  Anybody,"  spoke  up  Dunk  Peabody, 
"  oughter  have  sense  enough  to  know  the 
people  of  this  county  have  made  up  their 
minds  to  have  free  turnpikes,  an'  free  turnpikes 
they  're  a-goin'  to  have." 

This  was  received  with  a  chorus  of  approval. 

"  It 's  a  vanity  an'  a  mockery  fer  any  man  to 
set  hisself  up  ag'in  the  will  o*  the  people,"  ob 
served  Uncle  Jesse  Craik. 

"  The  will  o'  the  people  is  all  right  when  it 
is  all  right,"  responded  Pap  Maxey,  pushing 
his  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head,  "  but  the  will 
o'  the  people  is  like  mighty  nigh  ev'ything  else 
in  this  worl'  —  it 's  a  in-an'-outer ;  an'  it  knows 
it.  That 's  why  the  will  o'  the  people  sets  up 
constitutions  an'  gover'ments  an'  laws  to  lay 
down  things  which  the  will  o'  the  people  shain't 


A  Horse-Block  Symposium     143 

do  an'  things  which  the  will  o'  the  people  shill 
do.  Yes,  sir,  the  will  o'  the  people,  ef  it  is 
always  right,  goes  to  a  powerful  lot  o'  trouble 
to  keep  itself  straight.  You  boys  say  the  will 
o'  the  people  has  made  up  its  mind  to  have  free 
turnpikes.  Now,  free  turnpikes  is  a  mighty 
good  thing  to  have,  an*  we  oughter  have  'em, 
ef  we  git  'em  honis.  An'  I  don't  know  no  way 
to  git  'em  honis  here  but  to  buy  'em  an'  make 
'em  free.  You  pay  fer  yo'  teams,  ef  you  cain't 
git  'em  on  tick ;  you  even  pay  fer  yo'  drams 
ef  you  cain't  git  'em  on  treats.  But  you  wanter 
blow  up  all  creation  ruther  'n  pay  fer  yo'  turn 
pikes.  'T  ain't  that  you  are  all  paupers.  Some 
o'  you  don't  pay  no  toll  nohow  —  you  go  afoot 
ef  you  cain't  git  a  lift.  Dunk  Peabody  there, 
he  ain't  had  hair  ner  hide  of  a  critter  sence  he 
los'  his  las'  mule  on  aces-up;  yit  Dunk  is  a- 
whoopin'  loud  as  anybody  fer  the  will  o'  the 
people  an'  free  turnpikes.  But  't  ain't  them 
that  cain't  raise  no  stake,  like  Dunk,  that 's  doin' 
all  the  devilment.  In  some  counties  the  gates 
in  the  richis  neighborhood  is  the  fus  to  go.  Ef 
you  want  free  turnpikes,  why  n't  you  buy  an' 
pay  fer  'em,  from  them  that  bought  an'  paid 
fer  'em,  stiddier  goin'  after  dark  to  rob  an* 
shoot  'em  free  ?  Well,  sir,  the  will  o'  the  peo- 


144  The  Opponents 

pie  has  made  laws  which  be  it  enac's  that  when 
the  will  o'  the  people  takes  a  notion  to  rob  an' 
shoot,  the  jail  is  the  right  place  fer  the  will  o' 
the  people ;  an'  the  jail  is  the  place  where  ev'y 
gallivested  scamp  that  raided  that  gate  las' 
night  oughter  be  —  yes,  sir-ree,  the  jail,  an'  not 
the  church !  " 

Pap  Maxey  only  seemed  to  amuse  the  crowd. 
"  You  ain't  a  fair  witness,  Pap,"  said  one ;  "  you 
would  n't  talk  that-away  if  you  did  n't  own  stock 
in  the  turnpike." 

"  Yes,  I  own  stock  —  I  own  five  sheers.  An' 
I  didn't  raid  no  toll-gates  fer  it,  nuther.  I 
worked  fer  it,  like  ev'ything  else  I  got.  I  got 
my  turnpike  stock  thes  like  I  got  my  farm.  I 
reckon  when  you  boys  burn  me  outn  my  turn 
pike  property  an'  git  yo'  free  turnpikes  you  '11 
pitch  in  an'  dynamite  me  offn  my  place,  ef  the 
will  o'  the  people  makes  up  its  mind  to  have 
free  farms." 

"  Say,  Pap,"  he  was  informed  by  Dunk  Pea- 
body,  "you're  away  off!  Farms  is  owned  by 
privit  individyuls,  but  turnpikes  is  owned  by 
copperations ;  an'  copperations  an'  m'nop'lies 
an*  all  them  is  gotter  go." 

"  Yes,  the  turnpike  is  owned  by  a  coppera- 
tion,"  the  old  man  admitted, "  an' '  copperation ' 


A  Horse-Block  Symposium    145 

is  a  powerful  big  word,  ain't  it?  They  was  a 
man,  one  time,  they  was,  who  discovered  that 
Nature  won't  allow  no  vacyum  —  you  know 
that 's  a  empty  holler  —  an'  I  reckon  Nature 
invented  the  word  '  copperation  '  fer  to  fill  up 
the  empty  hollers  in  the  heads  of  some  folks 
with.  Toe-be-sho,  '  copperation '  is  giner'lly 
what  comes  out  when  they  opens  their  heads." 

There  was  some  chaffing  of  Dunk  at  this,  but 
Pap  Maxey,  as  one  of  his  auditors  expressed 
it,  had  "  got  his  gait  now,"  and  did  not  pause. 

"  One  of  the  fus  things  I  learnt  in  the  old 
blue-back  spellin'-book,"  he  continued,  "  was 
that  copperations  is  a  good  thing  fer  the  little 
fellers,  like  us.  The  old  man  with  a  raft  of 
sons  showed  'em  how  easy  it  was  to  break  ev'y 
stick  by  itself,  but  they  could  n't  break  narry 
one  when  he  tied  'em  all  together.  We  got  up 
a  copperation  to  build  the  turnpike  because 
there  wa'  n't  no  privit  individyul  able  er  willin' 
to  build  it.  We  chipped  in  because  that  was 
the  only  way  to  git  the  road,  an'  we  needed  it, 
an'  needed  it  bad.  Befo'  we  built  it  there  wa'  n't 
a  farm  'roun'  here  that  sent  hardly  anything  to 
market.  It  wouldn't  pay  to  haul  stuff  forty 
mile  th'ough  the  wilderness.  Sence  we  built 
the  pike  it  is  easy  to  git  ev'ything  we  raise  to 

10 


146  The  Opponents 

the  railroad  —  an'  railroads  is  copperations  that 
has  done  a  heap  mo'  to  bring  out  some  States 
in  this  country  than  the  States  themselves  has 
done  —  an'  ev'y  acre  o'  Ian'  in  the  county  has 
doubled  and  thribbled  in  price,  an'  farmers  not 
only  makes  a  good  livin',  but  has  somethin' 
over  to  buy  Sunday  clothes,  an'  patent  churns, 
an'  melojuns,  an'  powder  an'  lead  to  shoot  cop- 
peration  toll-gate  keepers  with." 

"  Pap 's  a-warmin'  up  now,"  sang  out  Nelse 
Tigert. 

"  One  po'  man,  like  me  or  you,  ain't  no  great 
shakes  by  hisself,  but  ten,  er  fifty,  er  a  hundud 
po'  men  clubs  in  an'  makes  somethin'  mo'  'n 
tongue  and  buckle  meet.  That 's  a  copperation. 
Most  of  the  stockholders  in  our  turnpike  is  po' 
men ;  some  is  widders  an'  childun.  Same  way 
in  mighty  nigh  all  copperations.  Yit  you  honis, 
hard-workin'  privit  individyuls  wanter  wipe  out 
all  their  property,  er  gobble  it  up  fer  yo'selves. 
You  let  these  here  dummygogue  politicians  set 
you  crazy.  All  a  man  's  gotter  do  is  to  take  the 
stump  an'  shuck  his  coat  an'  loose  his  collar  an' 
light  into  copperations,  an'  you  wanter  send 
him  to  Congriss." 

"'Raw  fer  Garrard ! "  shouted  Dunk  Pea- 
body. 


A  Horse-Block  Symposium    147 

"  '  Raw  fer  Tunstall !  "  countered  Uncle 
Jesse  Craik. 

"  You  ain't  never  heerd  Garrard  dummy- 
goguin'  ag'in  copperations,"  Pap  Maxey 
snapped. 

"  Well,  you  ain't  never  heerd  Tunstall, 
nuther ! "  Dunk  Peabody  glared  at  Uncle 
Jesse  Craik. 

"  You  thes  wait  tell  Tunstall  takes  the 
stump  !"  challenged  Uncle  Jesse,  with  slowly 
oscillating  head. 

"You  boys  shet  up,"  ordered  Pap  Maxey 
"  There  was  that  'ere  nigger  Gabe  Fowler," 
taking  up  again  the  thread  of  his  discourse, 
"  he  believed  in  the  doctrine  of  free  meat,  an' 
because  he  carried  it  out  an'  stole  a  shoat  from 
Alf  Howlitt  you  sent  Gabe  to  the  peniten 
tiary.  But  Alf  Howlitt,  he  believes  in  the 
doctrine  of  free  turnpikes,  an'  because  he  eggs 
you  on  to  stealin'  'em  you  're  a-goin'  to  send 
him  to  the  Legislature,  where  he  promises  an' 
pledges  hisself  to  put  in  his  time  pulverizin' 
the  turnpikes  an'  the  railroads  an'  Wall  Street 
and  Lombud  Street  an'  all  them  copperations. 
The  way  you  fellers  is  a-goin'  to  pulverize  the 
roads  an'  streets  I  reckon  you  mus'  be  caki- 
latin'  on  takin'  to  flyin'  machines." 


148  The  Opponents 

"  Shanks's  mare  is  good  enough  fer  me,"  tes 
tified  Dunk  Peabody. 

"  Ef  you  cain't  borry  somebody's  mule," 
qualified  Uncle  Jesse  Craik. 

"  An'  while  you  're  pulverizin'  the  coppera- 
tions,"  Pap  Maxey  resumed,  "what  are  you 
a-goin'  to  do  with  yo'  churches?  Ev'y  man 
cain't  have  a  church  an'  a  preacher  an'  a  orgin 
all  to  hisself,  so  you  all  go  in  cahoots  an'  chip 
in  to  put  up  a  meetin'-house  an'  hire  a  preacher 
—  some  chippin'  in  blue  chips  an'  some  reds  an' 
some  thes  whites,  accordin'  to  the  parable  of 
the  talents.  So  what 's  yo'  church  yonder  but 
a  copperation?  Well,  I  reckon  ef  the  ma 
jority  in  heaven  was  to  git  possessed  with  yo' 
idees  they  would  n't  wanter  let  you  in  at  all, 
because  ev'y  gallivested  one  of  you  didn't 
carry  on  a  church  by  hisself  as  a  privit  indi- 
vidyul.  When  you  goin'  to  blow  up  the  Con- 
way  gate  ?  " 

The  crowd  was  laughing  in  good  humor, 
and  some  began  moving  toward  the  church 
door. 

"  'Raw  fer  Garrard  and  Howlitt !  "  called 
back  Dunk  Peabody. 

"  'Raw  fer  Tunstall  and  Howlitt !  "  promptly 
followed  the  falsetto  of  Uncle  Jesse  Craik. 


A  Horse-Block  Symposium    149 

"  Come  on  in,  Pap,"  Nelse  Tigert  suggested. 
"  Maybe  the  parson  '11  exchange  pulpits  with 
you." 

"  I  s'pose  you  all  are  a-goin'  to  put  the  toll 
you  saved  this  mornin'  at  Sibley's  Mill  into 
the  conterrybution  box ! "  was  Pap  Maxey's 
last  word. 


XIII 

"THE  QUEENIN'  OF  IT" 

A  LITTLE  later  he  drove  over  to  Sibley's  to 
see  the  wounded  Andy;  and  then  coming 
back  he  went  on  down  the  road  to  the  Conway 
gate.  In  those  times  of  the  turnpike  ma 
rauders  in  Kentucky  scarcely  a  week  passed 
that  the  newspapers  did  not  report  gates  cut 
down  and  toll-houses  burned.  The  gate  at 
Sibley's  Mill  had  been  destroyed  twice  now, 
and  Pap  Maxey  knew  that  a  few  mornings 
before  a  scrawl,  signed  "  The  Friends  of  the 
People,"  had  been  found  tacked  to  the  door  of 
the  Conway  toll-house,  directing  that  no  more 
toll  be  collected,  on  pain  of  being  "  blowed 
sky-high." 

The  Conway  gate  was  the  pride  of  its 
keeper,  Nathan  Conway.  Forty  years  before, 
when  the  road  was  surveyed  and  a  gate  located 
near  Nathan's  cottage,  he  had  applied  for  the 
post  of  keeper,  and  in  accordance  with  his 
wishes  the  company  had  placed  the  gate  in 


<c 


The  Queenin'  of  It  "         151 


front  of  Nathan's  yard,  on  the  edge  of  which  it 
built  the  cabin  used  as  the  toll-house.  Here  it 
was  the  pleasure  of  Nathan  to  spend  most  of 
his  time.  He  was  an  autocrat  in  his  sphere, 
and,  no  less  than  others  in  higher  spheres,  he 
liked  autocracy.  Nothing  in  his  narrow  experi 
ence  had  ever  given  him  such  opportunity  for 
self-assertion.  A  wave  of  his  hand,  and  the 
traveller  had  permission  to  pass ;  a  twist  of  his 
wrist,  and  the  gate  barred  all  transgression  of 
his  will.  He  was  a  stickler  for  the  strict  ob 
servance  of  the  rules  of  the  company,  but  it 
was  a  question  if  he  was  not  secretly  more 
pleased  with  their  attempted  infraction,  for 
that  gave  him  a  chance  to  demonstrate  his 
authority.  His  family  —  a  wife  and  two  chil 
dren  —  understood  and  respected  his  hobby. 
His  daughter,  Lide,  who  kept  the  cottage  ob 
scured  from  the  toll-house  and  the  road  behind 
roses,  wistaria,  and  morning-glories,  trained  the 
vines  also  over  the  porch  of  the  toll-house, 
and  saw  to  it  that  there  was  ever  within  easy 
reach  on  that  porch  a  cedar  bucket  of  cold 
spring-water  and  a  shining  dipper,  —  a  feature 
of  "  the  Conway  gate "  which  spread  its  fame 
from  one  end  of  the  road  to  the  other,  and 
which  more  than  anything  else  reconciled 


152  The  Opponents 

Nathan  Convvay  to  the  existence  of  the  bicy 
clists.  For  the  bicyclists  not  being  required 
to  pay  toll,  and  not  being  therefore  subject  to 
Nathan's  official  authority,  had  been  at  first 
offensive  innovations  in  his  sight,  and  he  had 
raised  his  voice,  in  political  discussion  with 
Dunk  Peabody,  Uncle  Jesse  Craik,  and  others 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  in  favor  of  passing  a 
law  at  Frankfort  abolishing  bicycles,  along  with 
the  Money  Power,  trusts,  and  other  evils  of  the 
age.  But  when  the  bicyclists  discovered  that 
bucket  and  dipper  on  the  porch  and  revelled 
as  only  bicyclists  can  over  such  a  discovery, 
and  glorified  his  spring,  and  extolled  his  kind 
ness,  and  stocked  him  with  cigars  and  tobacco 
as  tokens  of  their  appreciation,  Nathan's  atti 
tude  toward  them  underwent  a  change,  and 
eventually  it  pleased  him  almost  as  much  to  see 
the  approach  of  a  bicycle  as  it  did  to  see  a 
traveller  try  to  evade  or  defy  the  rules  of  the 
company. 

The  few  acres  that  he  owned  were  cultivated 
by  his  young  son,  Dave,  and  these,  with  his 
official  income,  sufficed  for  his  simple  wants. 
This  summer,  after  years  of  saving,  he  had 
got  enough  together  to  make  his  long-planned 
visit  to  his  brother  in  Texas.  Dave,  as  a  rare 


"  The  Queenin'  of  It  "         153 

treat,  had  been  allowed  to  accompany  him 
as  far  as  Louisville,  and  for  the  present  Lide 
Conway  was  in  full  charge  of  the  gate. 

She  came  out  of  the  cottage,  this  Sunday 
morning,  through  the  toll-house,  to  the  little 
porch,  a  wholesome-looking  girl,  clean  as  to  the 
calico  dress  she  wore,  clean  as  to  the  white 
petticoat  whose  edge  showed  as  she  caught  up 
her  skirt  crossing  the  yard.  There  were  pink 
roses  at  her  waist  and  under  the  rich  tan  of  her 
cheeks,  and  the  sun  sifted  down  through  the 
morning-glory  vines  shading  the  porch  and 
sought  its  own  in  her  eyes  and  hair. 

"  Good-mornin',  Pap  Maxey,"  she  greeted 
the  old  man,  who  had  pulled  up  the  yellow 
horse  in  front  of  the  toll-house.  "  I  was  goin' 
to  send  for  you  to-day.  You  must  come  in  to 
dinner.  Ma  told  me  I  must  make  you.  We  're 
all  by  ourselves." 

"  Much  obleeged,  much  obleeged,  Lide,  but 
I  mus'  be  gittin'  along.  I  thes  drove  by  to  see 
how  you  comin'  on." 

"  Everything 's  about  as  usual,  only  another 
warnin'  was  left  last  night." 

"  Toe-be-sho,  toe-be-sho  !  " 

She  took  from  her  bosom  a  paper  and  handed 
it  to  him. 


1 54  The  Opponents 

"  I  found  it  on  the  do'  this  mornin',  the  same 
place  where  the  other  was." 

He  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  scanned  it 
closely.  "  Ken  you  make  it  out?"  he  asked, 
returning  it  to  her.  "  My  schoolin'  did  n't 
pervide  fer  no  sich  gallivested  writin'  as 
that." 

"  It  says :  '  Last  Warnin'.  You  are  hereby 
notified  not  to  collect  no  mo'  toll,  or  the  Con- 
way  gate  will  go  to  meet  the  one  at  Sibley's 
Mill.  We  warned  you  once  —  next  time  we 
will  act.  We  do  not  act  on  Sunday  which  we 
remember  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy,  but 
we  will  be  ready  for  business  Monday.  Take 
due  notice. —  The  Friends  of  the  People'  " 

"Yi,  yi!"  Pap  Maxey  laughed,  "an"  the 
rapscallions  means  it." 

"  It 's  a  shame  !  "  the  girl  said  with  kindling 
eyes.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  a  man  !  " 

"  But  you  ain't,  Lide,  an'  I  '11  come  over  an' 
sleep  in  the  toll-house  to-night.  They  won't 
come  to-night,  though.  That  "s  honis,  what 
they  say  about  Sunday.  I  know  them  scamps. 
But  I  reckon  you  an'  yo'  ma  '11  feel  easier  with 
a  man  on  the  premises." 

"  I  ain't  afraid,  but  I  know  ma  '11  be  glad  if 
you  come." 


"  The  Queenin'  of  It "         155 

"  I  '11  hunt  up  Vance  "  —  Vance  was  the 
president  of  the  turnpike  company  —  "  an' 
make  him  go  befo'  Judge  Gilbert,  at  Yardley, 
to-morrer,  an'  swear  out  guards  fer  the  gate. 
Then  the  Conway  gate  will  be  as  ready  fer 
business  Monday  as  'the  Friends  of  the 
People"ll  be." 

The  next  day,  about  noon,  Pap  Maxey,  who 
had  started  to  the  railway  station  with  the 
intention  of  going  to  Yardley,  the  county  seat, 
to  have  Vance  apply  to  the  County  Judge  for 
guards,  returned  to  the  Conway  gate,  with  the 
explanation  that,  owing  to  his  horse's  "  galli- 
vested  laziness,"  he  had  missed  the  train,  and 
there  being  no  other  until  late  in  the  afternoon, 
there  would  be  little  probability  of  his  securing 
the  guards  before  morning. 

"  But  ef  the  raiders  come  to-night,  Lide,  you 
let  'em  cut  down  the  gate,"  he  advised.  "  Don't 
you  make  no  objection,  an'  they  won't  bother 
you  ner  the  house." 

"  But  why  can't  I  have  some  guards  without 
sendin'  all  the  way  to  Judge  Gilbert?"  the 
girl  suggested. 

"  So  you  mout,  Lide,  but  not  accordin'  to 
the  law  made  and  pervided.  An'  the  p'int  is, 
you  don't  know  who  to  git.  You  don't  know 


i  56  The  Opponents 

who  b'longs  to  the  raiders  'roun'  here  now  an' 
who  don't —  specially  who  don't." 

"  I  thought  maybe  it  would  n't  make  so 
mighty  much  difference,  you  know,"  Lide  ven 
tured,  with  a  little  more  color,  "  whether  they 
belonged  to  the  raiders  or  not,  if  I  asked  them 
as  a  particular  favor  to  me." 

Pap  Maxey's  face  wrinkled  till  his  eyes  shut 
with  his  shrill  little  laugh. 

"  Well,  now,  maybe  it  would  n't,"  he  admitted. 
"  I  had  n't  thought  of  that  p'int  I  reckon  some 
folks  would  swim  the  river  ef  you  ast  'em,  Lide, 
raiders  er  no  raiders.  I  mind  me,  now,  there  's 
Ike  Pritchett  an'  Rufe  Wright,  toe-be-sho." 

"  An'  there  's  Nelse  Tigert,"  she  added.  "  I 
reckon  he  'd  come." 

"  An'  Nelse  Tigert,"  agreed  Pap,  his  eyes 
twinkling.  "  You  git  Ike  an'  Rufe  an'  Nelse  to 
watch  the  gate  fer  you  to-night,  an'  there  won't 
be  no  raidin'  of  it,  I  '11  go  you  !  An'  all  you 
gotter  do  is  to  crook  yo'  finger  at  them  three, 
Lide,  you  raskil !  "  his  laugh  even  causing  the 
sleepy  horse  to  prick  up  his  ears. 

"You  go  'long  with  you,  Pap  Maxey!" 
Lide  commanded,  her  eyes  narrowing  and  her 
cheeks  dimpling  with  the  smile  she  only  par 
tially  succeeded  in  repressing. 


"  The  Queenin'  of  It  "        1 57 

That  afternoon  she  wrote  three  notes  and 
sent  them  off  by  a  negro  boy.  Ike  Pritchett, 
Rufe  Wright,  and  Nelse  Tigert  were  regarded 
as  the  chattels  of  Lide  Conway.  They  had  all 
been  "  sparkin'  "  her  for  some  time ;  Rufe  and 
Nelse  for  three  or  four  years  and  Ike  more  than 
half  as  long.  It  was  generally  agreed  that  Lide 
could  get  any  one  of  the  three  whenever  she 
"  said  the  word ;  "  that  if  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  "  have  "  any  of  them,  none  of  them 
knew  it;  and  that  she  was  holding  all  three 
"  on  the  string,"  to  suit  her  pleasure  and  con 
venience.  They  were  all  tractable  subjects, 
except,  perhaps,  Nelse  Tigert.  Nelse  had 
"  asked  "  her  as  many  times,  no  doubt,  as  either 
of  the  others  had,  and  had  been  as  devoted, 
but  he  was  less  patient  with  what  he  called 
Lide's  "  queenin'  of  it."  He  had  even  told  her 
outright  that  she  ought  to  make  her  choice 
of  them  or  "  boost  the  whole  bunch."  This 
being  "  bunched  "  impartially  with  the  others 
was  one  of  the  things  that  seemed  to  chafe 
him.  Rufe  Wright  did  not  disturb  him  much, 
except  to  get  in  his  way.  Rufe  was  a  harm 
less  sort  of  fellow,  whom  Nelse  rather  liked, 
and  whom  he  did  not  seriously  regard  as  his 
rival.  Perhaps  he  did  not  seriously  so  regard 


158  The  Opponents 

Ike  Pritchett ;  but  he  had  a  contempt  for  Ike, 
and  did  not  deem  him  worthy  of  so  much  as 
Lide's  notice.  He  had  too  good  an  opinion  of 
her  to  think  that  she  would  ever  marry  Ike 
Pritchett,  but  it  "riled"  him  to  see  Ike  ad 
mitted  to  her  friendship  and,  apparently,  to 
equal  favor  with  Rufe  Wright  —  and  Nelsc 
Tigert. 

He  was  particularly  displeased  with  Lide's 
latest  bit  of  "  queenin'  of  it."  In  the  early  part 
of  the  preceding  week  he  had  ridden  up  to  the 
gate  and  asked  Lide  if  he  might  "  come  to  see  " 
her  Thursday  night. 

"  Come  Friday  night  or  Wednesday  night," 
she  had  said.  "  Ike 's  comin'  Thursday  night." 

"  Seems  like  Ike  an'  me 's  always  wantin'  the 
same  nights,"  he  had  replied. 

"An*  you  an'  him  are  always  put  out  with 
each  other  an'  actin'  disagreeable  about  it.  So 
I  Ve  turned  over  a  new  leaf.  I  'm  goin"  to  give 
you  all  one  night  a  week  apiece.  Ike  says  he  '11 
take  Thursday  night,  an'  you  can  have  yo* 
choice  of  the  others.  Rufe  will  be  satisfied 
with  any  night." 

"  Well,  I  be  dadbur  —  well,  you  do  beat  the 
Queen  o'  Sheby !  "  was  Nelse's  dazed  com 
ment,  while  Lide  laughed  softly  in  a  "  Giant 


"  The  Queenin'  of  It  "        1 59 

of  Battles"  rose  into  which  she  was  dipping 
her  face. 

"  Scuse  me!"  Nelse  said,  with  his  second 
breath.  "  I  'm  a  thousan'  times  obleeged  to 
you,  but  you  c'n  give  my  night  to  Ike  Pritchett 
too."  He  swept  the  horizon  with  his  hat  as  he 
bowed  to  her,  and  dug  his  heels  into  his  horse's 
sides. 

"  Remember,"  Lide  called  to  him  as  he  gal 
loped  away,  her  laugh  growing  clearer  in  her 
intention  that  it  should  overtake  him  —  "  re 
member,  any  night  but  Thursday.  An'  tele 
graph  me  which  one  you  decide  on." 

Lide's  three  notes  were  brief,  and  similar  in 
everything  except  the  addresses;  Ike,  Rufe, 
and  Nelse  each  being  merely  informed  that 
she  would  be  at  home  that  night,  with  the  inti 
mation  that  she  would  be  pleased  to  see  him. 

"Did  you  find  them  all?"  she  asked  the 
boy,  on  his  return. 

"  Yassum." 

"It  was  all  right,  was  it?" 

"  Mr.  Ike  en  Mr.  Rufe  say  dey  sholy  gwine 
come,  but  Mr.  Nelse,  he  say  please  scuse  him, 
caze  he  done  got  an'er  in-ingagemunt." 

Such  a  thing  had  never  happened  before. 

Rufe  came  at  dusk,  and  Ike  not  much  later. 


1 60  The  Opponents 

Each  seemed  surprised  to  see  the  other,  each 
having  assumed  himself  especially  favored  by 
his  invitation.  Lide  made  no  explanation  for 
some  time,  sitting  between  the  two  and  appear- 
•  ing  not  to  notice  their  discomfort,  though  she 
was  keenly  and  approvingly  conscious  of  it. 

Finally  Rufe  slowly  rose  and  flapping  his 
hat  dejectedly  against  his  thigh,  remarked  that 
he  reckoned  he  'd  be  movin'  on. 

Lide  told  him  not  to  be  in  such  a  hurry,  and 
then  added  that  the  raiders  had  made  threats 
to  destroy  the  gate,  and  that  Pap  Maxey  had 
suggested  that  she  ask  Rufe  and  Ike  to  come 
over  and  help  her  take  care  of  things  that 
night 

Rufe's  lassitude  gave  way  to  a  look  of  pleased 
and  childlike  animation.  He  sat  down  imme 
diately,  and  all  constraint  between  him  and  Ike 
Pritchett  at  once  vanished.  They  had  some 
thing  to  think  of  now  except  the  same  girl. 
There  was  even  before  them  a  possibility  of 
fighting;  and  Rufe  and  Ike  were  both  more 
natural  and  rational  and  cheerful  when  fighting 
than  when  courting. 

Soon  Rufe  took  out  his  pistol  and  inspected 
it  fondly;  and  Ike  followed  his  example,  re 
marking  to  Lide: 


"  The  Queenin'  of  It  "         1 6 1 

"  Ef  you  'd  a-told  me  afo'hand  I  'd  'a'  brung 
my  rifle  along." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  little  porch  of  the 
toll-house. 

"You  all  take  them  pistols  inside  an'  lay 
them  on  the  table,"  Lide  ordered.  "There 
would  n't  be  no  accountin'  for  what  you  two 
would  do,  with  them  pistols  in  yo'  pockets. 
I'll  tell  you  when  to  use  them,  if  the  time 
comes." 

There  were  strenuous,  even  indignant,  pro 
tests  against  this,  and  her  two  subjects  were 
nearer  open  rebellion  than  they  had  ever  been 
before.  But  Lide  had  her  way. 

They  sat  and  talked  of  the  raiders  and  their 
doings  until  the  moon  came  up  through  the 
trees,  and  the  air  from  the  yard  grew  sweet 
from  the  dew-distilled  fragrance  of  Lide's 
flowers.  It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when 
Rufe  suggested  that  Lide  go  to  the  cottage 
and  leave  him  and  Ike  to  look  after  the  gate. 

"  Hush,"  she  answered  intently.  "  I  believe 
I  hear  horses." 

She  was  not  mistaken.  In  a  few  seconds  the 
hoof-beats  of  several  horses  were  faintly  though 
distinctly  audible  down  the  turnpike. 

Then  the  sound  suddenly  ceased. 


1 62  The  Opponents 

"They've  all  pulled  up,"  said  Rufe,  "er 
they  've  turned  off  to  the  side,  where  there 
ain't  no  rock." 

"An*  there  ain't  no  dirt  road  along  there, 
nuther,"  supplemented  Ike;  "mus"  be  ridin' 
on  the  grass  to  keep  f 'om  makin'  any  noise." 

For  a  little  the  silence  was  unbroken ;  then 
Rufe  spoke : 

"That's  it!  Don't  you  hear  the  chug! 
chug!  of  the  horses  on  the  grass?" 

The  moon  was  shining,  though  dimly, 
through  a  thin  film  of  clouds. 

"  I  see  them !  "  exclaimed  Lide,  her  eyes 
straining  down  the  pale  limestone  line  of  the 
road. 

About  a  hundred  yards  from  the  gate  there 
was  a  clump  of  trees  on  one  side  of  the  pike, 
which  was  thus  partially  obscured  at  that  point, 
but  beyond,  in  the  moonlight,  a  dark  shadow 
was  approaching;  and  a  moment  more  it 
was  merged  in  the  larger  shadow  of  the  trees. 

"They're  goin'  to  hitch  their  horses  there 
an'  do  the  rest  on  foot,"  hazarded  Rufe. 

He  seemed  to  have  guessed  right.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  raiders  reappeared,  now 
without  their  horses,  and  numbering  apparently 
ten  or  fifteen.  They  came  straight  forward 


"  The  Queenin'  of  It "         163 

until  they  had  covered  about  half  the  distance 
between  the  trees  and  the  gate,  when  they 
abruptly  halted  and  drew  together  in  a  bunch. 

"  I  reckon  they  see  us  now  an'  are  holdin'  a 
confab,"  observed  Rufe. 

It  was  fully  a  minute  before  it  ended.  Then 
a  voice  was  heard  to  say  decisively :  "  I  '11  go 
myself  an'  see  how  the  land  lays,  an'  not  a 
man  comes  another  step  till  I  give  the  word." 
Immediately  one  of  the  party  left  it  and  walked 
swiftly  toward  the  gate. 

"  Why,"  gasped  Rufe,  in  amazement,  "  that 
feller's  voice  sounded  like  —  " 

"  It  is  !  it  is  !  Oh,  the  creature !  "  was  Lide's 
low  cry  of  wrath  and  contempt. 

"  The  pistols !  "  Ike  exclaimed,  and  he  and 
Rufe  rushed  from  the  porch  into  the  house  to 
secure  them. 

But  Nelse  Tigert  was  too  quick  for  them. 
He  sprang  forward,  and  before  Lide  knew 
what  was  his  purpose  he,  laughing,  had  lifted 
her  from  the  porch  and  was  hurrying  with  her 
in  his  arms  across  the  yard  between  the  toll 
house  and  the  Conway  cottage. 

"  That  wa'  n't  no  place  fer  you,  Lide,"  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  you  coward  !  "  and  she,  surprised  and 


164  The  Opponents 

powerless,  could  only  strike  him  in  the  face 
with  her  hand. 

"Do  that  ag'in,"  he  threatened,  "an'  I'll 
kiss  you." 

Rufe  and  Ike  had  almost  immediately  run 
from  the  toll-house  with  drawn  revolvers,  but 
with  Lide  in  the  arms  of  the  man  they  wished 
to  shoot,  revolvers  were  useless. 

"  I  '11  be  back,  boys,  soon 's  I  escote  Miss 
Lide  home,"  Nelse  had  laughed  to  them  over 
his  shoulder. 

He  put  her  down  at  the  door  of  the  cottage. 

"  You  better  go  in  an'  stay  with  yo'  ma," 
he  advised ;  "  I  '11  see  that  they  ain't  no  damage 
done  'cept  thes  to  chop  down  the  gate  pole." 

Lide  did  not  deign  to  answer  him. 

Rufe  and  Ike  rushed  up,  and  Nelse  turned 
to  face  them. 

"  Hold  on,  you  all,"  he  said ;  "  we  don't 
want  no  difficulty  in  Miz  Conway's  yard.  I 
reckon  she 's  asleep,  anyhow.  You  c'n  see 
me  outside,  ef  you  wanter." 

Just  then  there  was  the  ring  of  axes  at  the 
toll-gate. 

"You  hurry  back  to  the  gate,  Rufe,"  Ike 
urged;  "I'll  settle  with  Nelse  Tigers" 

"  Stop,  both  of  you !  "   Lide  ordered,  run- 


«  The  Queenin'  of  It "        165 

ning  up  to  her  two  lieutenants.  "  It's  too  late 
to  do  any  good  now,  an'  there  ain't  no  use  of 
yo'  gettin'  hurt  for  nothin'." 

Ike  took  a  determined  step  toward  Nelse, 
but  Lide  was  between  them,  and  was  to  be 
obeyed. 

"  Ike  Pritchett,"  she  cried,  "  if  you  an'  Rufe 
Wright  don't  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you,  I  '11 
never  speak  to  either  of  you  again  as  long  as 
I  live !  " 

"  She 's  right,  boys,"  Nelse  Tigert  volun 
teered.  "  No  use  yo'  cuttin'  up  now.  The 
gate  's  down  by  this  time,  an'  you  got  my  word 
they  shain't  do  no  other  damage.  Ef  you 
wanter  light  into  us  you  c'n  do  it ;  but  what  '11 
you  make  buckin'  up  ag'in'  a  crowd  that 's  six 
or  seven  to  yo'  one  ?  As  fer  me,  when  you  all 
wanter  see  me  you  know  mighty  well  it 's 
always  easy  to  find  me." 

He  turned  and  walked  away,  toward  the  toll- 
gate.  Ike,  sullen  and  black,  was  about  to  fol 
low,  but  was  restrained  by  a  look  from  Lide. 
Rufe  was  slowly  gouging  a  hole  in  the  turf  with 
his  boot,  his  eyes  intent  on  his  work. 

"  By  gum !  "  he  muttered,  "  I  don't  see  what 
was  the  use  o'  yo'  sendin'  fer  us  ef  you  wa'n't 
a-goin'  to  let  us  have  no  fun." 


1 66  The  Opponents 

The  raiders  had  now  left  the  gate  and  dis 
appeared  down  the  pike.  When  Lide,  with 
her  unhappy  escorts,  went  to  see  what  ruin 
had  been  wrought,  she  found  that  the  toll 
house  had  been  undisturbed,  but  that  the 
gate-pole  had  been  cut  down  and  had  been 
obligingly  chopped  up  into  lengths  suitable 
for  stove-wood. 


XIV 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA'S 
SUPERIOR 

ALTHOUGH  it  was  not  later  than  seven  o'clock 
the  next  morning  when  Nelse  Tigert  rode  up 
to  the  Con  way  gate,  he  found  another  pole 
across  the  road. 

There  was  a  smile  on  his  face  as  he  stopped 
his  horse  and  waited  for  Lide  to  let  him  pass ; 
the  smile  broadened  as  he  noted  that  she  came 
out  of  the  toll-house  without  appearing  even  to 
see  him,  and  that,  contrary  to  her  custom  in 
taking  toll,  she  made  no  motion  to  raise  the 
pole  until  she  had  his  money  in  her  hand. 

"  Hear  Pap  Maxey  has  gone  to  Judge  Gil 
bert  fer  guards,"  he  said  propitiatingly  as  he 
rode  through. 

She  simply  turned  her  stony  face  further 
away  and  lowered  the  pole  behind  him. 

"  That 's  a  good  move,"  he  tried  again,  "  ef 
he  gits  the  right  men;  an'  I  reckon  I  better 
give  him  a  tip." 


1 68  The  Opponents 

She  fastened  the  gate  and  walked  back  into 
the  house,  without  any  indication  that  she  had 
seen  or  heard  him. 

When  Pap  Maxey  returned  to  the  Conway 
gate  that  afternoon,  his  eyes  were  dancing  and 
his  jaws  were  working  so  much  more  than  nor 
mally  that  Lide  knew,  the  instant  she  saw  him, 
that  he  was  highly  pleased  with  the  result  of 
his  journey  to  Yardley. 

"  Well,  Lide,"  he  said,  "  I  reckon  we  '11 
manage  fer  a  while  now.  The  judge  did  n't 
wanter  give  us  no  guards  much  —  folks  thinks 
he  'd  like  to  take  sides  with  the  raiders  hisself, 
bein'  as  he  's  a  candidate  fer  re-election  —  an' 
he  would  n't  give  us  as  many  guards  as  we  ast 
fer,  but  he  allowed  us  fo'  fer  this  gate  an' 
Sibley's  Mill  together,  an'  long  's  we  got  good 
men  I  reckon  they  '11  do.  Nelse  Tigert,  he  says 
they  're  all  right,  an'  Nelse  knows." 

"  Nelse  Tigert !  "  the  girl  protested.  "  Why, 
don't  you  know  that  it  was  Nelse  Tigert  that 
led  the  raiders  last  night?  " 

"  I  reckon  I  know  as  much  about  Nelse 
Tigert  as  the  nex'  man.  When  he  says  he  '11 
do  a  thing  he  '11  do  it ;  an'  he  says  he  '11  be 
'sponsible  this  gate  won't  be  raided  while  he 's 
in  charge." 


The  Queen  of  Sheba's  Superior    1 69 

"  Nelse  Tigert  in  charge  of  this  gate !  "  as 
tonished  and  indignant. 

"  Toe-be-sho  !  Ef  he  's  on  our  side  now, 
who  keers  ef  he  was  on  t'  other  side  las'  night  ? 
So  much  the  better  ef  he  was  —  he  knows 
the  ropes.  We  done  fixed  it  all  up.  We  got 
Nelse  'p'inted  one  of  the  guards,  an'  he 's 
comin'  here,  while  the  other  three  '11  go  to 
Sibley's  Mill.  Nelse  said  he  reckoned  you 
was  not  hankerin'  fer  his  comp'ny,  but  you 
would  n't  hafter  see  much  of  him,  an'  he 
would  n't  be  much  wuss'n  havin'  strange  guards 
hangin'  'roun'.  Anyhow,  we  cakilated  he 
could  take  keer  of  the  gate  best,  without 
botherin'  about  any  of  the  strangers ;  so  he  '11 
be  on  hand  to-night." 

Lide's  head  was  high  in  the  air  now,  but  she 
did  not  condescend  to  argue  the  point. 

When  Nelse  arrived  later  and,  standing  his 
gun  on  the  porch,  against  the  wall  of  the 
toll-house,  sat  down  on  the  steps  near,  Lide 
was  at  the  cottage  with  her  mother ;  nor  did 
she  appear  until  an  hour  afterward,  when  she 
came  out  to  collect  toll  from  some  one.  Nelse 
was  still  sitting  on  the  steps,  but  she  would 
not  look  at  him. 

"  You  neenter  trouble  about  comin'  to  take 


170  The  Opponents 

toll,"  he  said,  as  she  started  back.  "  Ic'n  thes 
as  well  'ten'  to  that  fer  you  as  not." 

"  I  despise  you,  Nelse  Tigert !  "  she  flung  at 
him,  as  she  walked  away  and  returned  to  the 
cottage,  which  she  did  not  leave  again  that 
night. 

Next  morning  Nelse  waited  until  he  saw 
her  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  cottage, 
when  he  placed  the  money  he  had  collected  on 
the  table  in  the  toll-house  and  left  for  the  day. 

When  he  returned  to  take  up  his  sentry 
again  in  the  evening,  she  was  sitting  in  the 
entrance  of  the  toll-house,  sewing.  Nelse 
stood  his  gun  against  the  wall,  saw  that  she 
did  not  look  up  from  her  work,  and  went  to 
his  old  seat  on  the  steps.  He  sat  there  for 
several  minutes,  fanning  himself  with  his  hat, 
and  then  said,  without  glancing  toward  her : 

"  One  reason  I  never  come  the  other  night, 
when  you  sent  me  that  note,  was  because  I 
knowed  I  could  do  you  a  heap  mo'  good  by 
goin'  with  the  raiders." 

She  gave  no  sign  that  she  had  heard  him, 
and  he  spoke  no  further. 

Soon  she  rose  and  went  to  the  cottage  for 
the  night. 

The  following  evening  she  was  again  sewing 


The  Queen  of  Sheba's  Superior    171 

in  the  doorway  of  the  toll-house  when  he  came 
on  duty,  and  after  he  had  been  silently  sitting 
on  the  steps  for  some  time  he  said,  as  if  in 
continuation  of  his  words  the  evening  before : 

"  I  picked  you  up  an'  toted  you  to  the  house 
because  I  did  n't  know  what  minute  them  fools 
might  begin  carryin'  on  an'  shootin'." 

She  made  no  reply.  He  went  on  fanning 
himself,  and  she  went  on  sewing.  Then,  after 
a  little,  it  being  Thursday  and  Ike  Pritchett's 
night,  that  young  man  arrived,  and  Lide  took 
him  over  to  the  cottage. 

Friday  evening,  as  Nelse  placed  his  gun 
against  the  wall,  he  looked  into  the  doorway  of 
the  toll-house,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  the 
girl  sitting  there  again,  but  she  was  not  visible. 

Just  then  Dunk  Peabody  rode  up,  and  Nelse 
went  forward  to  take  his  toll. 

"  Say,  you  ain't  goner  charge  me  nothin', 
are  you,  Nelse  Tigert  ?  "  Dunk  expostulated. 

Nelse  answered  that  he  had  no  authority  to 
make  any  exception  in  Dunk's  favor. 

"  But  this  ain't  my  mule,  nohow,"  Dunk 
argued.  "It's  Uncle  Jesse  Craik's:  charge  it 
to  Uncle  Jesse." 

Nelse  insisted  on  the  cash. 

"  Look-a-here,    Nelse    Tigert,"    Dunk    de- 


172  The  Opponents 

murred,  as  he  handed  over  the  money,  "  I  be 
dodgasted  ef  you  ain't  the  las'  man  I  ever  ex 
pected  to  see  takin'  sides  with  the  grastin'  pluty- 
crats.  An'  I  tell  you,  man  to  man,  you  better 
look  sharp,  too !  The  boys  don't  know  what 
to  make  o'  yo'  desertin'  'em  'twixt  sun-up  an' 
sun-down,  an'  they  got  it  in  fer  you  !  " 

"  You  tell  the  boys,"  Nelse  replied  with 
unwonted  dignity,  "  that  bein'  a  privit  citizen 
is  one  thing  an'  bein'  a  awficer  of  the  law  is 
another ;  an'  as  long  as  I  am  a  awficer  of  the 
law,  sent  here  by  the  Judge  of  the  County  Cote 
to  carry  out  the  law  an'  guard  this  gate,  I  'm 
a-goin'  to  do  it  while  Ic'n  draw  a  bead  er  pull 
a  trigger." 

"  Well,  Nelse  Tigert,"  Dunk  called  back  as 
he  rode  on,  "  I  bet  you  that 's  the  las'  cent  o' 
my  money  the  Conway  gate  ever  gits.  You 
put  that  in  yo'  gun  an'  shoot  it." 

"  Is  Uncle  Jesse  goin'  to  lend  you  the  toll 
as  well  as  the  mule?"  Nelse  retorted. 

He  did  not  see  Lide  until  about  nine  o'clock 
that  night.  Then  she  came  into  the  toll-house 
and  set  a  tray  on  the  table. 

"  Ma  thought,"  she  said  in  a  low,  uncompro 
mising  voice,  "you  might  need  a  snack  durin' 
the  night." 


The  Queen  of  Sheba's  Superior    173 

"I  —  I  'm  much  obleeged  to  you,"  Nelse 
stammered ;  "  I  -  '  But  she  went  out  and 
across  the  yard  to  the  cottage  without  waiting 
to  hear  what  he  would  have  added  when  he 
recovered  control  of  his  tongue. 

Saturday  night  was  the  one  Rufe  Wright  had 
chosen  for  his  own ;  and  Lide  and  he  sat  on 
the  porch  of  the  cottage,  while  Nelse  sat  on  the 
porch  of  the  toll-house. 

Mrs.  Conway  brought  him  his  lunch  that 
night. 

Lide  brought  it  Sunday  night;  and  before 
she  could  set  it  down  and  leave,  Nelse  had  again 
spoken. 

"  You  never  s'posed  I  ever  meant  to  harm^' 
gate  ?  "  he  said.  "  Them  fools  was  thes  deter 
mined  to  play  the  mischief  an'  burn  down  the 
whole  toll-house,  an'  I  dunno  what  all,  but  I 
thought  ef  I  went  with  'em  I  could  take  the  lead 
an'  hold  'em  down  from  doin'  anything  but  thes 
cuttin'  down  the  pole,  'thout  nobody  bein'  hurt. 
That 'sail." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  adjusted  the  napkin 
over  his  lunch  and  went  back  to  the  cottage. 

Monday  night  Nelse  was  a  little  later  than 
usual,  and  it  was  dark  when  he  reached  the  gate. 

This  time  Lide  Conway  was  standing  out  on 


1/4  The  Opponents 

the  porch  of  the  toll-house,  looking  anxiously 
down  the  road.  When  she  saw  Nelse  she  gave 
a  little  exclamation  of  relief  and  hurried  to  meet 
him. 

"  O  Nelse !  "  she  cried,  "  look  what  I  found 
stuck  on  the  do'  to-night." 

She  held  out  a  sheet  of  paper  and  they  went 
inside,  to  the  lamp. 

But  Nelse,  standing  by  the  table,  seemed  to 
have  no  thought  of  the  paper  in  his  hand.  His 
breathing  was  deep,  his  face  aglow,  his  glad, 
puzzled  eyes  fixed  helplessly  on  the  metamor 
phosis  of  Lide. 

"  Read  it,  Nelse,  quick ! "  she  urged.  "  It- 
it  is  terrible  !  " 

Nelse's  face  relaxed  into  a  great  smile,  which 
seemed  to  settle  there  forever,  and  he  finally 
found  voice  as  he  reluctantly  withdrew  his  eyes 
from  the  girl  to  the  paper. 

"  What?   This  here  thing?  "  he  said  stupidly. 

"  Hurry,  Nelse ;  read  it !  " 

He  unfolded  the  paper  and  held  it  to  the 
light:  — 

"  To  Nelse  Tigert —  Trater —  You  leave  the  Con- 
way  gate  at  once,  or  we  will  hang  you  to  the  rafters 
before  we  burn  down  the  house. 

"  The  Friends  of  the  People." 


The  Queen  of  Sheba's  Superior    175 

Nelse  laughed  absently  as  he  dropped  the 
sheet  on  the  table ;  but  Lide  caught  his  arm 
quickly. 

"  O  Nelse,"  she  pleaded,  "  leave  right  away, 
please !  You  don't  know  when  they  will 
come ! " 

"  Shucks,  Lide  !  "  he  scoffed  in  his  happiness ; 
"  don't  you  mind  what  them  fellers  say.  It 's  a 
cold  bluff.  They  wanter  bluff  me  off  the  place 
so  they  c'n  chop  you  some  mo'  stove-wood. 
I  know  that  gang.  They  ain't  out  fer  no  shootin' 
match  with  —  with  no  plumb  fool  that  they 
know  ken  shoot,  an'  will  shoot,  an'  shoot  trou 
blesome  ruther  'n  step  up  an'  be  hanged. 
There 's  a  wasps'  nest  up  there  among  them 
rafters,  anyhow,  an'  I  thes  would  n't  choose  to 
be  hanged  so  clost  to  no  wasps'  nest.  'Sides, 
I  would  n't  leave  the  Conway  gate  now,  wasps' 
nest  er  no  wasps'  nest,  with  a  hangin'  th'owed 
in !  " 

"  But  please,  Nelse,  do  it  for  —  for  me." 

"  Why,  Lide  "  —  and  he  said  it  as  if  he  meant 
it,  —  "I  could  whoop  all  the  raiders  in  Ken 
tucky  to-night !  " 

He  led  her  out  to  his  old  seat  on  the  porch, 
and  they  talked  it  over  there  for  nearly  an  hour, 
he  finally  promising  magnanimously,  "  thes  to 


ij6  The  Opponents 

satisfy  you,  Lide,"  that  he  would  call  on  one 
of  the  guards  at "  Sibley's  Mill  to  reinforce 
him,  if  young  Dave  Conway  did  not  get  home 
next  day.  Then  Lide  went  to  the  cottage,  and 
came  back  with  Dave's  rifle,  insisting  that  she 
intended  to  take  f)ave's  place  that  night,  and 
Nelse  was  standing  on  the  porch  before  her, 
roaring  with  laughter  and  threatening  that  if 
she  did  not  return  to  the  cottage  and  go  to  sleep 
he  would  "  bodaciously  tote  "  her  there,  as  he 
had  done  once  before,  when  his  laughter 
abruptly  ceased  at  the  sudden  and  near  sound 
of  a  horse  galloping  away  from  them,  up  the 
pike. 

Lide  and  Nelse  looked  at  each  other  com- 
prehendingly.  No  one  had  ridden  through  the 
gate. 

"  Some  loafer  sky-larkin'  roun',"  Nelse  said 
reassuringly. 

"  It  was  somebody  spyin'  on  the  gate,  to  find 
out  if  you  were  here,"  Lide  answered  with 
quickened  breath. 

"  Well,  he  found  out,  an'  I  reckon  what  he 
found  out,"  replied  Nelse  confidently,  "  will 
satisfy  him  fer  this  night.  Now,  you  run  on 
back  to  the  house,  my  —  my  girl,  ef  you  don't 

wanter  make  me  lose  my  job.    The  fact  is, 

f 


The  Queen  of  Sheba's  Superior   1 77 

I  've  been  so  took  up  an'  turned  'roun'  with  you 
tonight  that  I  plumb  forgot  I  was  a  awficer 
of  the  law,  an'  that  sneak  might  'a'  touched  a 
match  to  the  toll-house  'thout  my  layin'  eyes 
on  him." 


XV 

SOME  RAIDERS   AND  A  THEORY 

"  I  HEAR  somebody  comin'  now,"  said  Lide, 
looking  alertly  up  the  turnpike. 

"Oh,  that  ain't  them,"  Nelse  assured  her; 
"  they  won't  come  on  wheels." 

It  was  Morgan  Tunstall  and  his  party,  driving 
home  from  the  railway  station,  on  their  return 
from  Mammoth  Cave.  Tunstall,  in  his  phae 
ton,  with  Mrs.  Letcher,  Kate  Cockerill,  and 
Hugh  Letcher,  passed  through  the  gate  with 
out  stopping.  A  few  seconds  later  a  second 
carriage  followed,  containing  Margaret  Helm, 
Florence  Letcher,  Nixon,  and  Sidney  Garrard. 
Garrard  pulled  up  the  horses  at  the  gate,  and 
the  party  spoke  to  Lide  cordially,  Florence 
and  Margaret  leaning  out  and  shaking  her 
hand  in  unaffected  admiration.  Lide,  since  her 
adventure  in  attempting  to  defend  the  gate  the 
previous  week,  was  regarded  as  something  of  a 
heroine. 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      179 

"  No  more  attacks  on  the  gate  since  we 
left?"  inquired  Garrard. 

"  No,  sir,"  Lide  answered ;  "  Mr.  Tigert  has 
been  guarding  it  every  night." 

"  Ah?  Well,  that 's  a  good  idea.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  attack  a  gate  that  Nelse  was  guarding." 

"  By  order  of  Judge  Gilbert,"  explained 
Nelse,  standing  a  little  straighten 

"  But  what  are  you  doing  with  that  gun, 
Miss  Lide?"  Garrard  asked. 

"This?  Oh,  this  is  Dave's.  I  just  brought 
it  over  from  the  house." 

"  She  's  got  a  notion  the  raiders  are  comin* 
ag'in,"  Nelse  laughed  softly,  "  an'  she  ain't 
good  an'  certain  that  Ic'n  manage  them  by 
myself." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Garrard !  "  Lide  cried  impulsively, 
stepping  nearer,  "  you  read  it  an'  see  if  you 
don't  think  Nelse  ought  n't  to  pay  some  at 
tention  to  it,"  handing  him  the  warning  she 
had  found  stuck  on  the  door  earlier  in  the 
evening. 

Garrard  read  it  slowly  two  or  three  times. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?"  he  asked  lightly, 
as  he  handed  it  back. 

Lide  explained. 

"  Well,  I  should  n't  worry  about  it  at  all," 


1 80  The  Opponents 

he  said,  as  if  it  were  not  worth  further  con 
sideration. 

He  drove  on;  but  fifteen  minutes  later, 
when  he  had  said  good-night  to  Margaret  and 
Florence  at  Letcher  Tavern,  he  called  to  Hugh, 
who  was  smoking  outside,  Tunstall  having  left 
Mrs.  Letcher  and  Hugh  at  the  Tavern  and 
gone  on  with  Kate  Cockerill. 

"  I  'm  afraid  there  may  be  trouble  again  at 
the  Conway  gate  to-night,"  Garrard  declared, 
as  Hugh  came  out  and  lifted  one  foot  to  the 
wheel  hub. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?  " 

"  A  rather  ugly  warning  left  at  the  gate  to 
night,  together  with  the  fact  that  since  reading 
it  I  have  recalled  several  circumstances  that 
look  a  little  suspicious.  There  was  that  fellow 
we  met  on  the  other  side  of  the  Conway  gate  — 
he  was  certainly  going  somewhere  and  for  some 
purpose.  At  any  rate,  he  was  going  in  the 
direction  of  Windrow's  Bend.  There  was  the 
neigh  of  a  horse  in  the  bushes  as  we  passed 
Windrow's  Bend,  further  back,  before  we  met 
this  fellow.  Now,  what  business  have  horses 
in  Windrow's  Bend  at  this  time  of  night?  We 
have  either  passed  or  met  half  a  dozen  men 
to-night  all  of  whom  were  going  toward  Wind- 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      181 

row's  Bend,  and  all  of  whom  edged  away  from 
us  on  the  road.  Since  I  have  been  waiting 
here  I  heard  two  more  gallop  along  the  pike 
beyond  Burnham's  yonder  and  turn  off  into 
Burnham's  lane.  It  may  be  only  a  coinci 
dence,  but  Burnham's  lane  is  the  only  route 
they  can  take  from  here  to  reach  Windrow's 
Bend  conveniently  without  going  through  the 
Conway  gate.  Besides,  we  know  the  state  of 
feeling  now  against  the  toll-gates." 

"  Nelse  Tigert  is  still  on  guard  at  the  Con- 
way  gate,  isn't  he?  "  Hugh  asked. 

"  Yes.  That 's  one  reason  why  an  attack  on 
the  gate  to-night  would  be  a  much  more  seri 
ous  matter  than  the  one  last  week  was.  Nelse, 
as  well  as  some  of  the  raiders,  would  be  pretty 
sure  to  fare  roughly." 

"  Well,  do  you  propose  anything?" 

"  Yes.  I  shall  stop  awhile  with  Nelse  as  I 
go  back.  If  you  like  you  and  Nix  might  join 
us.  We  four  should  make  a  pretty  formidable 
garrison  for  the  Conway  gate." 

"Now,  Sid,"  Nixon  protested,  "I'll  sit  up 
with  Nelse,  but  you  drive  on  home.  You 
are  n't  nominated  yet,  and  you  're  a  fool  to  go 
out  of  your  way  to  set  all  this  anti-toll-gate 
crowd  against  you." 


1 82  The  Opponents 

"  Right  you  are,  Nix,"  Hugh  exclaimed. 
"  You  and  I  can  keep  Nelse  company  to-night. 
There 's  no  use  of  Sid  getting  mixed  up  in  this 
business.  It  would  beat  him,  sure." 

"You  go  to  the  house,"  Garrard  enjoined 
him,  "  and  get  a  couple  of  guns,  without  letting 
any  of  the  family  see  you.  We  can  talk  over 
the  other  point  on  the  way." 

Hugh  got  the  guns,  and  as  the  three  drove 
back  to  the  Conway  gate  he  and  Nixon  re 
newed  their  protestations  against  Garrard's 
taking  any  unnecessary  risk  of  weakening  him 
self  in  his  race  for  Congress  by  helping  Nelse 
Tigert  guard  the  gate. 

"You  admit  that  these  raiders  and  their 
sympathizers  are  strong  and  unreasonable  in 
this  county,"  Hugh  urged,  "  and  that  to  excite 
their  hostility  won't  help  you  to  win  your  race." 

"  I  admit,"  Garrard  replied ;  "  but  Nelse 
may  be  in  a  tight  place  to-night,  and  may  need 
us." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  never  make  a  politician, 
Sid." 

"  Oh,  well,  as  far  as  that  is  concerned,  this 
turnpike  rioting  is  a  matter  of  public  interest, 
and  the  voters  have  a  right  to  know  what  I 
think  of  it." 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      183 

"  But  you  can  afford  to  wait  till  they  ask 
you  what  you  think  of  it.  There  's  no  occa 
sion  for  your  mixing  up  in  it  in  this  ruinous 
manner.  Nix  and  I  are  all  the  reinforcement 
Nelse  will  need." 

"  But  are  n't  you  a  politician  yourself?  " 
"  I  'm  out  of  politics  and  intend  to  stay  out." 
"  I  could  n't  ask  you  and  Nix  to  go  where  I 
would  n't  go.  Besides,  three  of  us  on  Nelse's 
staff  will  be  more  effective  than  two,  if  the 
raiders  should  come.  There  will  be  less  prob 
ability  that  they  will  fight  at  all  if  they  find  the 
gate  strongly  guarded.  Nelse's  conceit,  his 
reputation  as  a  rifle  shot,  his  recent  association 
with  the  raiders,  and  his  desire  to  'show  off* 
before  his  sweetheart  have  made  him  over 
confident,  yet  I  am  pretty  sure  that  Nelse's  con 
tempt  for  the  raiders  is  not  altogether  unjust 
to  them.  I  have  long  been  convinced  that  the 
average  mob,  when  not  aroused  to  frenzy  by 
some  unusually  atrocious  crime,  has  n't  a  sur 
plus  of  courage,  and  that  a  determined  resist 
ance  by  even  greatly  inferior  numbers  will  stop 
it  and  put  it  to  flight.  I  believe  that  three 
fourths  of  the  mobs  that  go  around  lynching 
negroes  and  all  of  them  that  go  around  burn 
ing  toll-gates  could  be  routed  by  a  sheriff  and 


1 84  The  Opponents 

two  or  three  deputies  who  were  men  enough 
to  do  their  duty.  The  chief  trouble  is  that 
these  law  officers  either  sympathize  with  the 
mob  or  are  too  cowardly  to  oppose  it.  They 
do  not  seem  to  realize  that  a  man,  though 
brave  enough  ordinarily,  is  usually  more  of  a 
coward  than  they  are  themselves  when  he  is 
taking  part  in  the  unlawful  enterprise  of  a  mob. 
It  is  not  often  that  he  will  run  much  real  risk 
of  getting  a  bullet  in  his  skin,  to  say  nothing 
of  discovery.  Nelse  and  two  of  us  would  no 
doubt  be  ample  to  protect  the  Conway  gate, 
but  Nelse  and  all  of  us  would  be  as  good  as  a 
regiment." 

He  had  his  way.  Nelse  Tigert  laughingly 
scoffed  at  the  possibility  of  his  needing  their 
assistance,  but  he  took  the  horses  to  the  stable 
cheerfully. 

"  There  wa'  n't  no  use  of  you  all  comin',"  he 
said ;  "  but  I  'm  glad  you  did  come,  anyhow. 
It's  powerful  lonesome  here  'long  towards  day. 
Maybe  wec'n  have  a  little  game  of  seven-up." 

But  there  was  no  seven-up.  Lide,  happily 
confident  now  of  the  safety  of  the  gate  and  of 
Nelse,  had  retired  to  the  cottage,  leaving  Dave's 
rifle  at  the  toll-house  "  in  case  it  might  be 
needed."  The  four  men  lounged  on  the  porch 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      185 

for  an  hour,  when  Nixon,  removing  his  coat 
and  turning  a  chair  down  as  a  pillow,  stretched 
himself  on  the  floor,  with  the  request  that  he 
be  called  if  visitors  should  arrive.  A  little  after 
twelve  o'clock  Hugh  yawned  that  he  believed 
he  would  follow  Nix's  example. 

"  Better  wait  a  minute,"  suggested  Garrard. 
"  Do  you  hear  anything,  Nelse  ?  " 

It  was  very  still.  The  moon,  red  with  what 
Nelse  had  interpreted  as  "  rain  before  she 
changes,"  was  low  in  the  west.  The  trees 
seemed  to  have  drawn  the  shadows  of  the 
night  about  them  and  were  motionless  in  sleep. 
There  was  not  even  a  lisp  in  the  field  of  corn 
across  the  road.  The  one  sound  that  domi 
nated  the  silence  had  the  effect  of  only  deep 
ening  it,  —  the  slumberous,  soothing  murmur 
of  the  shoals  in  the  little  river  a  mile  distant. 

"  Yes,"  Nelse  answered ;  "  I  hear  Sanders' 
Shoals,  an'  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  heerd  'em 
from  the  Conway  gate  befo'." 

"  And  /  hear  what  sounds  like  a  troop  of 
cavalry,  up  the  road,"  Garrard  declared. 

Nelse  bent  forward  intently  for  a  second. 
"  By  Hannah  Maria !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  so  do 
I!" 

He  took  up  his  gun,  which  had  been  stand 
ing  against  the  wall. 


i86  The  Opponents 

"  I  never  would  'a'  thought,"  he  added, "  that 
you  had  better  hearin'  than  me,  Sid  Garrard  !  " 

"  Oh,  Sid 's  a  politician,  and  he  keeps  his 
ears  to  the  ground,"  Hugh  Letcher  remarked. 

"  He  does,  does  he?"  Nelse  studied  Hugh's 
countenance  as  if  not  quite  sure  that  he  under 
stood  thoroughly.  "  Well,  ef  he  don't  want  to 
hear  things  that  would  n't  do  him  no  good,  I  'd 
advise  him  not  to  be  ketched  here  to-night. 
Them  's  voters  hittin'  the  pike  now,  an'  there  's 
lots  mo'  of  the  same  stripe  in  Luttroll  County." 

"  Excellent  advice,  Nelse,"  Hugh  replied ; 
"  too  good  to  be  thrown  away  on  a  man  pre 
destined  always  to  do  his  best  to  elect  the  other 
fellow.  Get  up  there,  Nix,"  kicking  Nixon's 
foot,  "  or  you  '11  miss  the  fun." 

Nixon  rolled  over  and  raised  up  on  his 
elbow,  growling: 

"  To  the  devil  with  you,  Spud  !  Don't  want 
any  breakfast  'smorning." 

The  night-riders  were  drawing  rapidly  nearer. 
The  ring  of  the  hoof-beats  on  the  hard  turn 
pike  was  now  so  distinct  that  Nelse  Tigert 
claimed  he  could  "  come  mighty  clost  to 
countin'  the  lay-out  There  's  about  twenty  in  it 
—  not  mo'  than  twenty-five  nor  less  than  fif 
teen."  Soon  they  were  visible,  their  backs 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      187 

against  the  sinking  moon.  As  they  swept  for 
ward  along  the  white  strip  of  the  road,  there  was 
a  jubilant  yell  from  a  single  throat,  followed  by 
a  gruff  "  Shut  up !  "  in  a  lower  voice.  The 
troop  galloped  as  near  as  sixty  yards  of  the 
toll-gate  before  they  stopped,  and  as  they  drew 
rein  Nelse  Tigert  stepped  out  into  the  road  in 
front  of  the  toll-house. 

"  I  reckon  you  all  better  wait  there  tell  you  're 
invited  to  come  any  furder,  boys,"  he  called  out 
good-humoredly. 

One  of  the  masked  raiders,  holding  up  a 
handkerchief  tied  to  the  muzzle  of  his  gun, 
trotted  forward  half  the  distance  to  the  gate 
and  halted. 

"  Nelse  Tigert,"  he  shouted,  "  you  know 
what  we  're  here  fer,  an'  I  thes  wanter  tell  you 
that  they  ain't  no  use  of  havin'  no  foolin'.  We 
don't  want  no  trouble,  but  we're  a-goin'  to 
chop  down  that  gate  an'  burn  down  that  toll 
house  ;  an'  we  're  a-goin'  to  do  the  square  thing 
to  keep  from  havin'  no  trouble  an'  give  you 
a  fair  chance  to  throw  up  yo'  job  an'  move 
outer  the  way.  We  ain't  disputin'  yo'  spunk, 
but  I  reckon  youc'n  see  we  're  a  few  too  many 
fer  you." 

"  Say,  Shack,"  Nelse  responded,  "  you  ough- 


1 88  The  Opponents 

ter  wear  a  muzzle  along  with  yo1  mask  ef  yo' 
don't  want  yo'  old  friends  to  know  you.  But 
I  ain't  throwin'  up  no  jobs,  Shack;  an'  right 
now  my  job  is  to  keep  this  gate  from  bein' 
chopped  down  an'  this  toll-house  from  bein' 
burned  down.  Is  that  all  you  wanted  to  say, 
Shack?" 

"  I  thes  wanted  to  give  you  fair  notice, 
Nelse,  to  save  onnecessary  trouble ;  an'  fair 
notice  I  done  give  you.  Now,  I  ain't  got  but 
one  mo'  thing  to  say.  I  'm  a-goin'  back  to  the 
boys  yonder,  an'  we  're  a-goin'  to  wait  thes  two 
minutes  by  the  watch  fer  you  to  ac'  reasonable 
an*  step  out  o'  the  way.  Then  we're  a-goin' 
to  chop  down  the  gate  an'  burn  down  the 
toll-house,  trouble  er  no  trouble." 

The  man  with  the  flag  of  truce  pulled  his 
horse  around  to  ride  back,  but  Nelse  halted 
him. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Shack.  I  ain't  had  my  say 
yit  You  give  the  boys  up  yonder  my  love 
an'  affection,"  raising  his  voice  so  that  the 
boys  could  hear  him  themselves,  "  an'  tell  '  em 
as  a  particular  favor  to  me  I  want  'em  to  take 
due  notice  of  that  'ere  tree  standin'  on  the  side 
of  the  road  a  little  ways  in  front  of  'em.  It 's  a 
slippery-ellum  tree,  an'  bein'  as  it  is  the  only 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      189 

tree  between  here  an'  them,  they  cain't  mis 
take  it.  Now  I  'm  a-goin'  to  stan'  here  behind 
this  red-oak  tree  —  I  'm  free  to  say  that  con- 
siderin'  the  number  of  you  all  I  'm  a-goin'  to 
take  to  timber  —  an'  the  fus  one  of  you  that 
comes  this  side  of  that  slippery-ellum,  well, 
I  'm  a-goin'  to  do  my  level  bes'  to  keep  him 
from  a-comin'  any  furder;  an'  I'm  livin'  in 
hopes  that  Ic'n  stop  a  passel  of  you  all  be 
tween  here  and  the  slippery-ellum.  I  reckon 
you  all  know  whether  Ic'n  shoot." 

"  All  right,  Nelse,"  answered  Shack.  "  We 
ain't  honin'  fer  no  ruckus,  an'  we  've  done  done 
the  fair  thing  to  keep  from  havin'  no  ruckus; 
but  ef  you  mus'  have  it,  you  mus'.  An'  I 
reckon  other  folks  kin  shoot  some,  too,  Nelse." 

Shack  rode  back  to  his  command.  There 
was  evidently  a  hurried  and  disorderly  con 
ference.  There  was  a  confusion  of  voices, 
several  of  which  could  be  understood  at  the 
toll-gate : 

"Then  we  won't  give  the  fool  no  two 
minutes !  " 

"  We  better  bushwhack  him  through  the 
corn-field ! " 

"  Or  flank  him  through  the  yard  !  " 

"To    hell   with    the   slippery-ellum!      I'm 


190  The  Opponents 

fer  ridin'  him  straight  down  right  over  the 
turnpike !  " 

Garrard  stepped  from  the  shadow  of  the 
porch  to  the  moonlit  road. 

"  Hugh,"  he  said,  "  would  n't  it  be  well  for 
you  and  Nix  to  show  yourselves  for  a  second 
out  here  by  Nelse  and  his  red-oak  ?  " 

He  walked  up  the  turnpike  about  twenty 
paces,  that  he  might  be  within  better  speaking 
distance  of  the  raiders. 

"  Here,  Sid,"  Nixon  objected ;  "  no  use  your 
acting  smart  now  and  getting  too  far  away  from 
the  red-oak." 

"  Boys,"  began  Garrard,  stopping  on  the  road 
and  addressing  the  raiders,  "  wait  a  minute 
where  you  are.  I've  a  few  words  to  say  to 
you." 

"  Why,  he 's  goin'  to  make  a  speech,"  com 
mented  Hugh.  "  The  ruling  passion  strong  in 
death." 

From  the  group  of  raiders  came  such 
ejaculations  as: 

"  I  know  that  voice !  " 

"  What 's  he  doin'  here?" 

"  Damned  if 't  ain't  Sid  Garrard  !  " 

"Yes,"  admitted  the  speaker,  "it's  Sid 
Garrard.  I  've  come  over  with  Hugh  Letcher 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      191 

and  Bob  Nixon  to  keep  you  and  Nelse  Tigert 
out  of  trouble." 

"Well,"  shouted  the  leader,  Shack,  riding 
forward  a  few  feet  in  front  of  the  others,  "  you 
an'  Hugh  Letcher  an'  Bob  Nixon  had  better 
go  back  to  keep  yo'selves  outer  trouble.  An' 
you  better  take  Nelse  'long  with  you,  I 
reckon." 

"  Now,  see  here,  boys,"  Garrard  urged, 
"  you  'd  better  act  reasonably  about  this  mat 
ter.  You  know  very  well  that  you  have  come 
to  do  an  unlawful  deed ;  that  Nelse  is  an  officer 
of  the  law  who  is  here  to  protect  the  toll-gate, 
and  that  before  you  can  do  what  you  came  to 
do  you  will  have  to  kill  him,  and  you  don't 
believe  you  will  be  able  to  do  that  before  he 
kills  some  of  you.  Is  the  destruction  of  the 
toll-gate  worth  what  it  will  cost  ?  " 

"Oh,  come  off !  This  ain't  no  stump  speakin' ! " 
yelled  one  of  the  raiders. 

"  That 's  yo'  Sid  Garrard  !  "  one  was  heard  to 
scoff  at  another.  "  Now  maybe  you  still  think 
he 's  fer  the  people,  heh?  " 

"  We  never  come  here  to  debate,  Mr.  Gar 
rard,"  Shack  responded.  "  We  come  here  fer 
business,  an'  we  're  a-goin'  to  'ten'  to  business. 
We  ain't  got  nothin'  ag'in'  you  an'  Mr.  Nixon 


192  The  Opponents 

an'  Mr.  Letcher,  an'  th'  ain't  no  call  fer  you  all 
goin'  outn  yo'  way  to  git  in  our  way.  So  you 
all  better  stan'  aside  an'  not  meddle  in  what 
don't  concern  you.  That's  fair  an'  square 
warnin'.  An'  that 's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  Not  quite,"  answered  Garrard.  "  We  have 
a  warning  to  give  from  our  side.  There  are 
four  of  us,  and  we  are  well  armed  and  pretty 
well  sheltered.  We  are  determined  that  you 
sha'n't  destroy  the  gate  without  killing  us,  and 
we  don't  believe  you  can  do  that.  Now,  I  serve 
notice  on  all  of  you  that  if  you  raise  a  hand 
against  this  gate  to-night  I  am  going  to  do  my 
best  to  send  every  one  of  you  to  the  peniten 
tiary,  and  if  you  kill  any  of  us  to-night  the 
survivors  will  do  their  best  to  send  you  to  the 
gallows." 

There  were  howls  and  jeers  of  indignation 
and  derision  from  the  raiders. 

"  Let  him  have  it  now !  "  cried  one,  as  a  rifle 
was  levelled  at  Garrard. 

But  Shack  threw  up  his  hand  imperatively. 
"  Stop  that ! "  he  ordered ;  and  as  Nelse, 
Hugh,  and  Nixon  sprang  toward  Garrard,  the 
gun  was  lowered,  and  Shack  snapped  his  fin 
gers  at  Garrard,  declaring: 

"We   don't   care   that   fer    yo'   notices   an' 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      193 

warnin's.  We  're  a-goin'  to  'ten'  to  this  busi 
ness —  when  we  git  ready.  We  ain't  got 
nothin'  ag'in'  you  an'  Letcher  an'  Nixon  —  that 
is,  not  enough  to  hanker  after  shootin'  you  down 
fer  a  old  toll-gate.  Besides,  there 's  another 
way  of  gittin'  even  with  you,  Sid  Garrard,  an' 
there  '11  be  a  heap  mo'  fun  in  it  than  there 'd 
be  in  thes  a  few  minutes'  shootin'  match." 

"  How  much  did  they  pay  you  when  you 
sold  out,  Siddie?"  a  raider  shouted. 

Shack  rejoined  his  gang,  and  Garrard  and  his 
friends  had  started  back  to  the  toll-gate  when 
one  of  the  masked  men,  thrashing  the  ribs  of 
a  mule  with  his  legs,  galloped  down  the  road 
with  such  momentum  that  the  slippery-elm  was 
passed  a  few  feet  before  the  animal  could  be 
stopped  and  jerked  back. 

"  Look  out  there,  Nelse  Tigert !  "  the  rider 
of  the  mule  cried  hastily,  crouching  low  over 
the  mule's  neck.  "  We  're  on  our  own  side  of 
the  slippery-ellum !  " 

Then,  as  the  laughter  of  Nelse  and  several 
of  the  raiders  ceased,  the  rider  of  the  mule 
raised  himself  in  the  saddle  and  in  a  surer  voice 
continued : 

"  I  let  you  know,  Sid  Garrard,  that  you  ain't 
the  only  man  in  Kentucky   that  kin  make  a 
'3 


194  The  Opponents 

speech ;  an'  I  tell  you  to  yo'  face,  Sid  Garrard, 
that  I  been  fer  you,  thick  an'  thin,  wet  er  dry, 
play  er  pay ;  that  I  have  stood  up  fer  you  tell 
I  have  been  knocked  down  fer  you ;  that  I 
have  been  made  fun  of  fer  you,  got  drunk  fer 
you,  fell  outn  trees  fer  you ;  that  I  have  been 
called  a  lie  when  I  said  you  was  ag'in'  the  pluty- 
crats  an'  that  I  always  up  an'  give  it  out  flat- 
footed  that  thes  they  wait  tell  you  come  to  the 
plutycrats.  But  I  have  done  foun'  you  out 
to-night,  Sid  Garrard,  an'  I  let  you  know  that 
I  wash  my  hands  er  you.  Yes,  sir,  I  wash  my 
hands  er  you.  An'  now,  feller  citizens,"  turning 
to  the  raiders,  "  le's  all  give  three  cheers  fer 
Tunstall !  " 

The  cheers  were  given  boisterously,  and  as 
the  orator  rode  back  to  his  companions  Nelse 
Tigert  called  after  him : 

"  Say,  Dunk,  nex'  time  you  wanter  disguise 
yo'self  you  better  take  yo'  mask  an'  put  it  on 
Uncle  Jesse  Craik's  mule." 

The  four  men  returned  to  the  toll-house,  and 
the  raiders  for  perhaps  ten  minutes  held  the 
position  they  had  taken  beyond  the  slippery- 
elm.  They  were  noisy  with  laughter,  a  few 
oaths,  some  argument  and  protestation,  but 
finally  they  rode  away  in  the  direction  whence 


Some  Raiders  and  a  Theory      195 

they  had  come,  an  occasional  whoop  and  two 
or  three  pistol-shots  marking  their  recession. 

"  Your  theory  about  rioters,  Sid,"  observed 
Nixon,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  toll-house 
porch,  "  seems  to  have  been  right  in  this 
instance.  There  goes  your  mob." 

"And  there  go  enough  votes  to  give  the 
county  to  Tunstall,"  added  Hugh  Letcher. 


XVI 

"FROM   A  STAFF  CORRESPONDENT" 

ABOUT  a  month  later  the  Luttroll  County  con 
vention  was  held  at  Yardley,  to  select  delegates 
to  the  district  convention.  The  ladies  of 
Letcher  Tavern  had  spent  that  month  in  the 
mountains  of  West  Virginia,  and,  undiverted 
by  their  presence,  both  Tunstall  and  Garrard 
had  devoted  their  time  to  the  campaign  for 
Congress.  On  the  night  before  the  convention 
a  staff  correspondent  of  the  Louisville  G/obesent 
this  despatch  from  Yardley  to  his  paper :  - 

"  The  eve  before  the  battle  for  the  Luttroll  delega 
tion  to-morrow  finds  both  sides  stubbornly  contesting 
every  point  and  the  friends  of  both  Tunstall  and 
Garrard  claiming  the  victory.  There  has  been  no 
such  fight  in  any  county  of  the  district  as  in  old  Lut 
troll.  It  is  not  only  the  home  county  of  both  con 
testants,  but  it  is  thought  to  be  the  keystone  to  the 
district  arch.  In  other  words,  the  general  belief  is 
that  the  Luttroll  delegation  in  the  district  convention 


"  From  a  Staff  Correspondent  "    1 97 

will  hold  the  balance  of  power,  and  that  whoever 
names  the  Luttroll  delegation  to-morrow  will  win  the 
nomination  two  weeks  later.  This  seems  to  be  as 
sure  a  forecast  as  can  be  made  in  politics,  and  in  my 
previous  despatches  covering  the  district  I  have  given 
convincing  facts  and  reasons  for  this  conclusion.  In 
a  nutshell,  to  recapitulate  the  result  of  my  thorough 
canvass  of  the  entire  district,  the  situation  seems 
clearly  to  be  that  without  the  vote  of  Luttroll  there 
will  be  a  deadlock  in  the  district  convention  between 
Tunstall,  Garrard,  and  Poindexter,  and  to  break  this 
deadlock  the  vote  of  Luttroll  will  be  absolutely  neces 
sary.  The  interest  in  the  county  convention  at 
Yardley  to-morrow  is,  therefore,  more  intense,  in  all 
probability,  than  it  will  be  in  the  district  convention 
at  Bracebury  next  month.  For,  in  this  view  of  the 
situation,  it  is  at  Yardley,  rather  than  at  Bracebury, 
that  the  identity  of  the  next  Congressman  from  this 
district  is  to  be  decided. 

"  Poindexter  has  made  no  fight  for  this  county. 
Tunstall  has  spoken  only  once,  and  very  briefly,  but 
his  campaign  has  been  a  thoroughgoing  Tunstall 
campaign.  What  that  means,  many  a  gentleman  who 
has  gone  up  against  it  and  who  is  now  in  the  retire 
ment  of  private  life  knows  too  well.  From  personal 
observation  I  can  say  that  Tunstall's  organization  in 
the  county  is  as  expert  a  piece  of  workmanship  as 
that  master  of  the  art  ever  turned  out.  It  seems  to 
be  perfect  His  friends  and  managers  claim  that  they 


198  The  Opponents 

will  have  no  trouble  in  naming  and  instructing  the 
delegation  to-morrow,  and  it  is  evident  that  they  are 
confident  in  their  claims. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  Garrard's  fight  has  been  as 
plucky  as  was  ever  made  by  a  crippled  bulldog.  For 
pure  gameness  and  grit  I  have  never  seen  it  surpassed. 
At  the  outset  of  the  campaign  the  odds  in  Luttroll 
were  with  Garrard.  He  had  lived  all  his  life  in  the 
county ;  Tunstall  had  only  of  late  years  returned  to 
resume  his  residence  here.  As  a  young  man,  Gar 
rard  was  personally  popular  in  an  exceptional  degree. 
It  was  this  popularity,  his  sociable,  free-and-easy 
democracy,  that  elected  him  to  the  Legislature  the 
first  time,  notwithstanding  the  fact,  as  I  am  reliably 
informed,  that  his  candidacy  then  was  taken  largely 
as  a  joke.  But  he  made  such  a  record  and  reputa 
tion  that,  though  it  is  a  question  if  a  majority  of  his 
party  here  did  not  disapprove  of  his  tendency  to  in 
dependence  in  the  Speaker's  chair,  his  home  people 
were  tickled  at  the  prominence  he  had  given  the  dis 
trict  and  were  more  or  less  proud  of  him  on  that 
account  This  and,  perhaps  more  than  this,  his  un- 
diminished  personal  popularity  gave  him,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  campaign,  an  advantage  over 
Tunstall  in  the  county.  If  to-morrow's  convention 
had  been  held  a  month  ago,  it  would  have  been  a 
Garrard  convention,  notwithstanding  TunstalPs  superb 
work.  But  the  now  celebrated  incident  of  the  Con- 
way  toll-gate  turned  the  county  against  Garrard  in  a 


"  From  a  Staff  Correspondent  "    199 

night.  The  anti-toll-gate  craze  was  at  its  height. 
Many  of  these  people  had  worked  themselves  up  to 
the  belief  that  it  was .  justifiable  to  destroy  the  toll- 
gates.  Others,  ever  ready  to  range  themselves  against 
the  established  order,  and  still  others,  ever  ready  to 
take  a  drink  and  smash  a  law  for  the  fun  of  it,  swelled 
the  free-turnpike  crusaders  to  such  numbers  that  when 
Garrard  openly  defended  the  Conway  gate  against 
them,  even  threatening  them  with  the  penitentiary 
and  the  halter,  his  cause  seemed  hopeless.  The 
wonder  was  that  he  did  not  quit  the  race.  His  friends 
gave  up,  to  a  man,  and  several  who  had  money,  hats, 
and  cigars  on  his  winning  paid  their  bets.  But  Gar 
rard  was  no  quitter.  Like  Paul  Jones,  when  appar 
ently  knocked  out  of  the  water,  he  had  only  just 
begun  to  fight.  It  was  then  that  the  same  stuff 
showed  in  him  that  showed  in  his  course  as  Speaker. 
Instead  of  surrendering,  he  changed  his  plan  of  cam 
paign  and  boldly  pitched  it  in  defiance  of  the  lawless 
element  he  had  aroused  against  himself.  He  '  car 
ried  the  war  into  Africa.'  He  went  over  every  foot 
of  the  county,  making  a  speech  every  day,  sometimes 
two  or  three  a  day,  openly  demanding  the  observance 
of  the  law,  however  unpopular  it  might  be,  uncom 
promisingly  reprobating  lawlessness,  insisting  that 
lawful  methods  alone  must  be  followed  in  freeing  the 
turnpikes,  declaring  that  he  would  repeat,  if  neces 
sary,  his  action  at  the  Conway  gate,  and  that  he  would 
do  what  he  could  as  a  citizen  of  the  State  to  prevent 


2oo  The  Opponents 

the  nullification  of  its  laws  and  to  impose  upon  those 
guilty  the  penalty  of  their  crimes. 

"  Naturally  his  campaign  was  a  hot  one.  Time 
and  again  was  he  warned  not  to  visit,  or  to  leave, 
different  parts  of  the  county.  More  than  once  was 
his  life  covertly  threatened,  and  it  is  an  open  secret 
that  his  friends  feared  for  his  safety ;  while  predic 
tions  were  heard  on  every  hand  that  he  would  not  live 
through  the  campaign.  But  he  was  to  be  neither 
dissuaded  nor  intimidated.  He  kept  up  what  many 
termed  his  foolhardy  fight  to  the  end.  And  not  with 
out  result.  Kentuckians  love  a  good  fighter,  a  square 
fighter,  a  foolhardy  fighter.  There  was  no  discount 
on  Garrard's  honesty  and  courage,  however  much 
there  may  have  been  on  his  principles.  Those  who 
agreed  with  him  were  all  the  more  active  in  his  in 
terest,  but  even  among  the  free-turnpike  element 
there  was  in  time  some  reaction,  though  the  ex 
tremists  among  them  are  all  still  wild  for  Tunstall, 
who  had  the  shrewdness  not  to  entangle  himself 
in  this  matter,  which,  after  all,  does  not  come  with 
in  the  scope  of  Congress.  As  it  is,  the  friends  of 
Garrard,  who  had  given  up  the  ghost  three  weeks 
ago,  now  claim  that  they  will  be  able  to  control 
the  convention  to-morrow,  though  by  a  small 
margin." 

At  the  bottom  of  the  last  sheet  of  the  fore 
going  despatch,  as  received  at  the  office  of 


"  From  a  Staff  Correspondent  "    201 

the    Globe,  was   this  private   message   to   the 
editor :  — 

"  Have  tried  to  follow  instructions  and  give  sum 
mary  of  situation  from  standpoint  of  both  sides  with 
out  committing  the  paper  to  forecasting  success  of 
either.  Tunstall  has  a  cinch." 

The  same  correspondent's  detailed  report  of 
the  convention  as  it  appeared  in  the  Globe  was 
preceded  by  this  introduction :  — 

"The  unexpected  has  happened.  While  the  sup 
porters  of  Tunstall  were  last  night  sure  of  naming  a 
straight  Tunstall  delegation  in  the  convention  to-day, 
and  while  the  supporters  of  Garrard  were  claiming 
that  their  man  would  win ;  while  most  people  here 
were  confident  that  Tunstall  would  have  a  solid  dele 
gation,  and  while  some  clung  to  the  hope  that  Garrard 
might  pull  through,  no  one  looked  for  the  actual 
result  —  a  dog-fall.  It  had  been  universally  assumed 
that  either  Tunstall  or  Garrard  would  have  the  entire 
delegation.  It  had  not  been  conceived  within  the 
range  of  probabilities  that  the  best  that  either  would 
be  able  to  secure  would  be  an  uninstructed,  divided 
delegation.  Yet  that  was  the  outcome  of  to-day's 
convention,  the  delegation,  which  was  chosen  after  a 
long  and  fierce  struggle  on  both  sides,  being  not  only 
uninstructed,  but  being,  as  far  as  can  be  ascertained, 


2O2  The  Opponents 

pretty  evenly  balanced  between  the  two  candidates. 
How  sharply  the  line  of  cleavage  in  the  delegation  is, 
may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  the  Garrard  men 
are  represented  on  it  by  such  leaders  as  the  Hon. 
Hugh  Letcher,  the  Hon.  Robert  K.  Nixon,  the  Hon. 
Nelson  Tigert,  and  the  Hon.  W.  C.  ("  Pap  ")  Maxey ; 
while  among  Tunstall's  partisans  on  the  delegation 
are  the  Hon.  Shelby  Letcher,  the  Hon.  John  W. 
Driggs,  the  Hon.  Breckinridge  Bodine,  the  Hon. 
Jesse  D.  Craik,  and  the  Hon.  Dunkerson  Peabody. 
How  this  desperately  fought  battle  came  to  be  a  drawn 
battle,  forms  one  of  the  most  interesting  chapters  in 
Kentucky  politics." 

As  such  a  chapter  is  not  essential  to  this 
narrative,  nor  materially  different  from  many 
chapters  in  the  politics  of  other  States,  the 
remainder  of  the  Globe's  despatch,  describing 
in  full  the  proceedings  of  the  Yardley  conven 
tion,  is  not  reproduced  here. 


XVII 

MARGARET  HELM  SHOCKS   GOOD   PEOPLE 

MEANTIME,  in  the  mountains  of  West  Virginia, 
the  woman  who  had  once  been  Morgan  Tun- 
stall's  wife  had  met  the  woman  he  wished  to 
make  his  wife. 

This  summer  resort  to  which  Mrs.  Letcher, 
with  Margaret  Helm  and  Florence,  had  come 
was  one  of  several  similar  places  in  the  Alle- 
ghanies.  Aside  from  its  high  altitude,  its 
primary  attraction  is  a  copious  spring  whose 
waters,  according  to  tradition,  were  once  chemi 
cally  analyzed,  what  purports  to  have  been  the 
result  being  presented  upon  the  hotel  sta 
tionery  to  this  day.  The  hotel  itself  is  a  large, 
massive  structure  of  brick,  built  in  the  substan 
tial  and  simple  style  of  the  Virginia  of  a  hun 
dred  years  ago.  The  long,  two-story  building, 
with  its  spacious  dining-room  and  ball-room 
and  its  scores  of  bed-rooms,  is  girdled  by  wide 
galleries.  Steps  run  down  from  these  galleries 


204  The  Opponents 

to  a  tree-studded  lawn,  that  extends  some  two 
hundred  yards  to  the  spring  and  the  swimming 
pool  and  to  the  flanking  brick  cottages.  The 
frequenters  of  this  resort  are  mainly  from  Vir 
ginia,  Kentucky,  and  Louisiana,  the  society  of 
Richmond,  Washington,  Baltimore,  Louisville, 
and  New  Orleans  being  always  well  represented 
here  in  July  and  August.  Many  families  return 
here  summer  after  summer  until  they  are  re 
garded  as  fixtures  of  the  season,  and  the  women 
who  got  their  first  taste  of  social  life  here  as 
young  girls,  before  formally  entering  upon  the 
stage  as  "  debutantes,"  come  back  here  year  after 
year,  and  continue  as  matrons,  widows,  or  old 
maids  the  life  they  first  learned  here  as  chil 
dren.  It  is  yet  one  place  in  the  country  where 
the  old  maid  may  be  seen,  —  not  the  bachelor 
girl  or  the  new  woman,  but  the  real,  feminine 
old  maid,  on  whom  the  originally  doubtful 
designation  sits  as  a  distinction,  who  is  rich 
in  memories  of  past  summers  on  this  lawn  and 
in  this  ball-room,  and  who  would  be  out  of  place 
at  the  mountain  and  sea-side  resorts  of  a  more 
modern  and  garish  fashion.  Dancing  and 
dining  have  long  been  the  principal  divertise- 
ments  here.  There  are  dancers  in  the  ball 
room  every  evening,  and  occasionally  there  is 


Margaret  Shocks  Good  People     205 

a  formal  cotillion.  Cards  and  a  little  horse 
back  riding  help  to  pass  the  time.  In  the 
mornings  there  is  a  brass  concert  on  the  lawn, 
and  latterly  golf  links  are  an  innovation  wel 
comed  by  the  more  actively  inclined. 

The  Letchers  —  mother  and  daughter  —  and 
Margaret  Helm  had  been  here  about  ten  days 
when  Mrs.  Grace  Knowles  arrived  with  her 
maid  and  took  one  of  the  cottages.  Margaret's 
attention  was  first  directed  to  her  because  of 
her  isolation.  She  seemed  to  have  neither 
friends  nor  acquaintances  among  the  guests. 
When  visible  at  all,  she  was  always  alone.  In 
the  dining-room  she  had  to  herself  a  little  table 
in  an  inconspicuous  corner  near  the  entrance. 
Sometimes  she  sat  stiffly  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  on  the  hotel  gallery  before  returning  to 
her  cottage.  Usually  during  the  morning  con 
certs  she  appeared  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  if 
there  was  an  unoccupied  seat  on  some  unfre 
quented  part  of  the  lawn.  It  was  plain  that 
she  did  not  seek  to  make  any  overtures  for  the 
establishment  of  a  social  relation  different  from 
that  which  she  had  accepted  from  the  first,  and 
it  was  equally  plain  that  the  guests,  taking 
their  cue  from  the  Kentuckians,  had  no  thought 
of  assuming  any  different  attitude  toward  her. 


206  The  Opponents 

They  simply  ignored  her,  even  the  middle- 
aged  idlers  of  her  own  sex  rarely  exchanging  a 
covert  sneer  at  her. 

Margaret  Helm,  who  did  not  know  and  had 
not  asked  anything  of  the  history  of  this  poor 
creature,  could  not  help  some  feeling  of  pity 
for  her.  It  was  clear  that  she  was  without  the 
pale,  for  what  reason  Margaret  had  neither 
knowledge  nor  curiosity,  but  the  loneliness  of 
the  woman,  the  quiet  bravado  with  which  she 
recognized  her  position  and  persisted  in  her 
course,  appealed  to  Margaret  with  a  touch  of 
pathos.  This  appeal  was  not  weakened  by 
Margaret's  realization,  which  was  soon  forced 
on  her,  that  she  herself  seemed  to  be  an  object 
of  some  exceptional  interest  to  Mrs.  Knowles. 
Margaret  became  aware  that  Mrs.  Knowles 
was  given  to  eying  her  at  every  opportunity. 
When  the  two  were  at  all  near  each  other,  it 
mattered  not  how  many  other  people  were  in 
the  vicinity,  Margaret  could  rarely  look  toward 
Mrs.  Knowles  without  finding  the  woman's 
gaze  fixed  on  her,  with  something  in  its  ex 
pression  that  puzzled  her  in  its  suggestion  of 
fear  and  longing. 

In  appearance  Mrs.  Knowles  was  not  attrac 
tive.  One's  first  casual  impression  on  beholding 


Margaret  Shocks  Good  People     207 

her  would  be  of  a  studied  artificiality  to  stay 
and  replace  the  physical  charms  of  youth,  the 
result  being,  instead  of  the  arrest  of  decay  or 
the  obliteration  of  its  effects,  a  more  positive 
defmement  of  its  ravages  and  an  aggressive 
materialization  of  the  persistence  with  which 
the  losing  fight  against  it  had  been  made.  A 
closer  study  of  the  face  might  reveal  a  con 
sciousness  of  the  futility  of  the  fight,  and  this 
in  itself  added  to  the  countenance  a  further 
touch  of  hardness,  to  be  interpreted  possibly 
as  the  index  of  a  settled  stoicism.  Such  an 
observer  as  circumstances  and  sensibility  had 
made  of  Margaret  Helm  would  have  quickly 
concluded  that  this  stoicism  was  rooted  more 
deeply  than  in  the  failure  of  a  vain  woman  to 
preserve  her  beauty. 

One  morning  Margaret  and  Florence  had 
been  sitting  on  a  bench  at  the  edge  of  the 
lawn,  Margaret  with  a  book  and  Florence  with 
her  work-basket.  The  concert  was  about  half 
over  when  Florence  left  and  went  to  the  hotel. 
A  few  minutes  later  Margaret  looked  up  and 
saw  Mrs.  Knowles  standing  a  dozen  yards 
away.  She  was  gazing  intently,  appealingly,  at 
Margaret,  and  she  seemed  to  shrink  back  a 
step  as  Margaret  raised  her  eyes.  Her  hand 


208  The  Opponents 

went  nervously  to  her  bosom,  which  Margaret 
could  see  was  agitated. 

"  She  is  trying  to  make  up  her  mind  to  come 
over  here  and  speak  to  me,"  was  Margaret's 
conclusion  as  she  turned  again  to  her  book. 

She  had  not  read  ten  lines  before  she  was 
aware  that  Mrs.  Knowles  had  walked  forward 
and  stopped  at  one  end  of  the  bench.  Marga 
ret's  eyes  remained  on  the  page,  though  she 
was  no  longer  reading. 

"May  I  sit  here?"  said  a  voice  timidly  un 
certain,  yet  with  a  strain  of  defiance.  "  All  the 
other  seats  seem  occupied." 

Margaret  glanced  up  perfunctorily. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered ;  after  which  she 
returned  to  her  book. 

She  read  a  paragraph  twice  without  compre 
hension.  Two  thirds  of  the  guests,  most  of 
them  women,  were  on  the  lawn,  and  Margaret 
felt  that  the  eyes  of  every  one  of  them  were 
directed  toward  her.  In  spite  of  herself  a  flush 
began  to  steal  into  her  face,  and  the  conscious 
ness  of  this  only  deepened  the  flush  and  stung 
her  with  prickling  points  of  heat.  She  turned 
over  the  leaf  ostentatiously,  and  seeing  that 
the  novel  ended  with  only  another  quarter  page, 
she  read  it  religiously,  being  careful  to  hold  the 


Margaret  Shocks  Good  People     209 

book  so  that  Mrs.  Knowles  might  easily  per 
ceive  that  the  last  of  the  closing  chapter  had 
been  reached.  Then  she  shut  the  volume  with 
a  final  snap,  gazed  meditatively  at  nothing  for 
a  few  seconds,  as  if  weighing  what  she  had 
read,  and  without  glancing  at  Mrs.  Knowles  a 
second  time,  rose  and  walked  across  the  lawn 
to  the  hotel. 

It  was  a  longer  walk  than  it  had  ever  been  to 
her  before.  There  were  so  many  people  to  be 
passed,  and  most  of  them  looked  at  her  with 
something  more  than  conventional  bows  or 
words  of  recognition,  their  voices  and  smiles 
betraying  their  approving,  and  in  some  in 
stances  sympathetically  amused,  appreciation 
of  what  she  had  done.  But  this  approval  and 
amusement,  restrained  and  well  bred  as  they 
were,  grated  uncomfortably  on  the  girl  as  she 
went  toward  the  hotel.  She  could  not  help 
feeling  that  she  had  done  a  small  thing ;  that 
she  had  pettily  and  publicly  wounded  a  fellow 
creature ;  and  that,  however  callous  this  woman 
had  become,  the  wound  was  real  and  needless. 
Margaret  inwardly  resented  the  commendatory 
interest  which  she  perceived  as  she  made  her 
way  past  these  refined-faced,  so  ft -voiced  wo 
men.  At  the  moment  she  would  have  pre- 
14 


21  o  The  Opponents 

ferred  their  contempt  to  their  commendation. 
She  had  a  flood  of  her  own  contempt. 

As  she  went  into  the  hotel,  her  steps  quick 
ened  and  her  color  heightened.  Her  rising 
anger  burned  in  her  cheeks  and  eyes.  Enter 
ing  her  room,  she  walked  across  it  two  or  three 
times  with  aimless  impatience.  She  stopped 
at  a  window  and  looking  out  over  the  lawn, 
saw  the  lonely  figure  of  Mrs.  Knowles  still  sit 
ting  stiffly  on  the  bench. 

"  It  was  cowardice  !  cowardice  !  "  she  in 
dignantly  said  aloud.  "  I  had  nothing  against 
her!  I  felt  nothing  against  her!  I  did  it 
simply  because  those  people  were  looking  on, 
and  I  was  afraid  to  be  seen  with  her !  " 

She  turned  impetuously  from  the  window 
and  started  across  the  room  to  the  door.  At 
the  table  on  which  she  had  dropped  the  book 
she  had  been  reading,  she  suddenly  halted, 
stood  irresolute  for  an  instant,  and  then  seized 
another  book  lying  on  the  table.  She  was 
transformed  in  a  flash.  The  anger  in  her  face 
and  voice  was  routed  by  a  childish  and  joyous 
radiance.  Looking  through  the  window  again, 
she  laughed  gayly : 

"  They  thought  that  I  left  the  poor  soul  be 
cause  I  would  not  sit  on  the  same  seat  with 


Margaret  Shocks  Good  People     211 

her ;  they  shall  think  now  that  I  left  her  only 
to  get  another  book." 

She  hurried  down  the  stairs  with  a  ripple  of 
song  on  her  lips,  but  as  she  emerged  from  the 
hotel  she  restrained  her  steps  to  the  more  de 
liberate  dignity  and  assumed  the  more  normal 
unconcerned  and  reposeful  expression  which 
were  quite  the  thing  among  young  women  of 
the  best  circles  at  this  resort. 

As  she  retraced  her  way  across  the  lawn 
straight  to  the  seat  by  Mrs.  Knowles,  Margaret, 
holding  her  skirts  with  one  hand  and  the  fresh 
book  with  the  other,  longed  to  smile  at  the 
imperfectly  repressed  signs  of  astonishment 
which  she  saw,  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes, 
among  the  good  people  in  sight  of  whom  she 
passed.  But  she  forgot  these  as  she  drew  near 
Mrs.  Knowles,  and  noticed  the  even  more  im 
perfectly  repressed  intensity  and  eagerness 
with  which  that  woman  watched  her  coming,  — 
the  incredulity,  surprise,  and  suspense  which 
broke  over  and  almost  softened  the  painted 
and  cracked  face.  Involuntarily  Margaret 
hastened  her  approach  a  little,  and  as  she 
regained  the  seat  she  had  left  a  few  minutes 
before,  there  was  an  answering  quickening  of 
her  own  breath  to  that  which  heaved  the 


212  The  Opponents 

breast  of  the  woman  at  the  other  end  of  the 
bench. 

Their  eyes  met  as  Margaret  sat  down.  Mrs. 
Knowles  reluctantly  turned  her  head  away,  and 
Margaret  bent  over  and  scanned  the  title-page 
of  her  book.  She  had  seen,  with  a  momentary 
little  ache  in  her  throat,  that  Mrs.  Knowles' 
eyes,  which  had  seemed  as  if  they  had  been 
forever  dry,  suddenly  filled. 

After  a  little  Margaret  summoned  her  will, 
and  said  with  a  fairly  successful  effort  to  appear 
at  natural  ease : 

"Do  you  know,  I  am  just  starting  to  read 
Comnterford  ?  Everybody  else  seems  to  have 
read  it  long  ago,  and  I  feel  dreadfully  behind 
the  times." 

Mrs.  Knowles  flinched  perceptibly.  She 
turned  at  the  words,  her  lips  twitching  in 
silence  before  she  framed  an  answer. 

"  I  have  not  read  it  either,"  she  said  ner 
vously.  "  It  —  it  is  a  sequel  to  The  Survivors, 
is  it  not?  If  it  is  as  good  as  The  Survivors, 
you  have  a  treat  before  you,  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  Indeed,  I  have  n't  even  read  The  Survivors. 
I  do  remember  now  that  Comnterford  is  a 
sequel  to  it,  and  I  suppose  one  should  read 


Margaret  Shocks  Good  People    2 1  3 

The  Survivors  first ;  but  there  are  so  few  books 
of  any  kind  here  that  one  has  little  choice." 

"  I  have  a  copy  of  The  Survivors.  If  you 
would  like  to  read  it,  I  'd  be  glad  to  lend  it  to 
you." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  And  as  you  have  n't  read 
Commerford  we  might  exchange." 

Thus  the  acquaintance  between  the  two  be 
gan.  The  good  people  on  the  lawn  were  not 
near  enough  to  hear  the  conversation  between 
Miss  Helm  and  "that  Knowles  woman,"  but 
they  saw  with  due  astonishment  that  there  was 
a  conversation,  which  lasted  fully  five  minutes, 
and  they  were  still  further  shocked  when  Miss 
Helm  actually  walked  by  the  side  of  the 
Knowles  woman  to  the  door  of  the  latter's 
cottage  and  waited  while  the  woman  entered 
and  reappeared  with  a  book,  which  Miss  Helm 
received  from  her  and  bore  back  to  the  hotel ! 
Miss  Helm  was  a  very  nice  girl,  but  she  was 
evidently  unusually  ignorant  or  unusually  in 
discreet.  Mrs.  Letcher  should  look  after  her 
charge  more  closely. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Letcher  did  take 
it  upon  herself  to  do  what  she  called  her  duty 
by  Margaret.  Florence  Letcher  had  remon 
strated  with  Margaret  against  having  anything 


214  The  Opponents 

to  do  with  Mrs.  Knowles;  but  Margaret,  while 
readily  promising  that  she  would  not  seek  the 
woman's  society,  for  which  she  had  no  desire, 
refused  to  agree  to  cut  her  or  snub  her  when 
thrown  in  contact  with  her.  Florence  then 
carried  the  case  to  her  mother. 

"  It  was  just  like  Margaret,"  Florence  said, 
after  explaining  the  matter  to  Mrs.  Letcher. 
"  She  sees  that  everybody  here  disapproves 
of  her  course,  and  that  makes  her  all  the  more 
stubborn." 

"  It  is  more  like  her  to  pity  the  creature 
so  that  she  is  willing  to  scandalize  the  whole 
place  rather  than  hurt  the  feelings  of  one 
woman.  Margaret  is  a  dear  girl,  but  she  is 
peculiar  in  some  things." 

"  As  if  such  a  woman  has  any  feelings  to  be 
hurt,  or  if  she  has,  as  if  they  ought  not  to  be 
hurt !  Margaret  is  a  dear  old  goose,  and  she 
only  laughs  when  I  tell  her  so." 

"  How  much  have  you  told  her  about  the 
Knowles  woman  ?  " 

"  That  she  was  the  wife  of  one  man  and  ran 
away  with  another,  whom  she  afterwards  mar 
ried  ;  that  in  Louisville,  where  she  lived  with 
her  first  husband  and  where  she  was  brazen 
enough  to  live  with  her  second  also,  nobody 


Margaret  Shocks  Good  People    2 1 5 

had  anything  to  do  with  her.  That  was  all  I 
knew  about  the  woman  myself,  except  that  her 
first  husband  was  Mr.  Tunstall." 

"  And  did  you  tell  Margaret  that,  too  ?  " 

"  N-no.  I  did  n't  see  the  use.  She  knows 
all  about  Mr.  Tunstall's  marriage  and  divorce 
that  the  rest  of  us  know,  except  that  this  par 
ticular  woman  was  the  one  who  was  his  wife. 
It  would  n't  make  any  difference,  but  it  would 
make  it  unpleasant  to  tell  her  that,  don't  you 
think  so?" 

"Yes,  I  understand.  And  she  will  find  it 
out  from  somebody  soon  enough,  anyway." 

Mrs.  Letcher  herself,  in  accordance  with 
Florence's  suggestion,  gave  Margaret  a  "  lec 
ture  "  on  her  civility  to  the  Knowles  woman; 
but  Mrs.  Letcher  was  a  poor  lecturer  of  any 
body,  and  a  very  poor  lecturer  of  Margaret; 
the  result  being  that  instead  of  carrying  her 
point  she  half-way  apologized  to  Margaret, 
when  the  girl,  at  the  end  of  the  argument  be 
tween  them,  took  her  chaperone's  face  between 
her  hands,  and  kissing  her,  smiled  appealingly : 

"  Please  do  not  be  vexed  with  me,  dear  Mrs. 
Letcher,  and  please  do  not  ask  me  to  snub  the 
poor  thing.  I  '11  promise  never  to  make  any 
advances  toward  her,  but  when  we  are  thrown 


216  The  Opponents 

together  let  me  be  polite  to  her.  She  prob 
ably  has  been  a  bad  woman,  and  may  be  yet, 
but  it  won't  do  her  any  harm,  or  me  either, 
to  treat  her  like  a  human  being ;  on  the  con 
trary,  I  can  see  it  does  her  real  good." 


XVIII 

THE    PENALTY 

MRS.  GRACE  KNOWLES  had  come  to  this  par 
ticular  mountain  resort  simply  because  she  had 
seen  in  the  papers  that  Margaret  Helm  was 
there. 

Kentuckians  had  never  fully  understood  the 
destruction  of  Morgan  Tunstall's  home  and  the 
sequel  as  lived  by  the  Knowles  pair  not  half  a 
mile  from  the  spot  where  that  home  had  been. 
All  that  they  knew  was  that  Morgan  Tunstall's 
young  wife  had  fled  one  night  with  Julius 
Knowles,  a  leader  in  cultured  and  fashionable 
circles ;  that  Tunstall  had  secured  a  divorce ; 
that  Julius  Knowles  had  married  the  woman, 
and  that  the  two  had  returned  to  Louisville  and 
lived  in  isolation  as  man  and  wife  until  the  death 
of  Knowles.  Why  they  chose  Louisville  of  all 
spots  on  earth,  and  why  Tunstall  never  took 
any  step  to  avenge  the  wrong  that  had  been 
done  him  —  never  even  noticing  the  existence 
of  the  couple  long  enough  to  put  a  bullet 


2i 8  The  Opponents 

through  either  of  them  —  was  known  only  to 
the  Knowleses  and  Tunstall  himself.  If  the 
whole  of  this  story  had  been  public  property, 
as  were  several  other  stories  of  real  life  in 
Louisville  which  readers  of  fiction  would  pro 
nounce  much  more  improbable,  it  would  at 
least  have  made  it  easier  for  Tunstall  at 
first;  and  as  for  that,  Kentuckians  to  this  day 
have  been  heard  to  intimate  that,  though  Mor 
gan  Tunstall  surely  in  other  instances  proved 
his  courage  and  protected  his  "  honor,"  there 
must  be  some  sort  of  "  yellow  streak "  in  a 
man  who  would  silently  submit,  without  so 
much  as  a  lifted  hand,  to  the  insult  which 
Julius  Knowles  put  upon  him.  It  was,  in 
deed,  this  feeling  that  had  been,  at  the  begin 
ning,  the  one  obstacle  to  Tunstall's  success 
in  politics. 

On  the  night  when  Tunstall  had  declared  to 
his  wife  and  Julius  Knowles  the  alternatives 
noted  in  the  first  of  these  pages,  he  had  been 
tremendously  in  earnest  Immediately  after 
ward  he  had  gone  so  far  in  his  plan  then  an 
nounced  as  to  send  a  detective  to  shadow  the 
couple  when  they  left  the  city,  but  had  re 
called  him  in  less  than  a  month,  and  had 
abandoned  the  plan,  except  as  to  the  prosecu- 


The  Penalty  219 

tion  of  the  action  for  divorce.  The  passion  of 
the  crisis  passed,  he  did  not  care  to  concern 
himself  about  this  faithless  woman  and  treach 
erous  man.  To  spend  his  life  in  the  execution 
of  a  scheme  to  punish  them  would  be  to  spend 
his  life  in  punishing  himself  by  keeping  them 
constantly  in  his  mind.  He  turned  his  back 
on  them  and  did  what  he  could  to  forget  them. 
But  he  did  not  stoop  to  tell  them  that  he  had 
put  aside  his  purpose,  and  they  never  knew 
that  he  had.  Knowles,  being  the  coward  that 
Tunstall  had  pronounced  him,  had  gone  on  to 
his  death,  or  at  least  until  he  was  too  callous  to 
care,  believing  in  Tunstall's  vengeance  because 
fearing  it.  Tunstall  did  not  know  it  at  the  time, 
and  may  never  have  known  it,  but  it  was  only 
necessary  for  a  man  like  himself  to  wind  the 
spring  of  cowardice  in  a  man  like  Knowles  in 
order  to  set  going  the  machinery  of  his  subse 
quent  life.  He  might  throw  away  the  key  and 
disappear  himself,  but  his  object  was  accom 
plished.  Knowles  knew  that  during  the  first 
few  weeks  after  his  departure  from  Tunstall's 
home  with  Grace  Tunstall,  Tunstall's  spy  had 
been  set  upon  him;  ever  afterward  —  or  until 
the  time  came  when  he  cared  for  nothing  — 
he  was  sure  that  he  was  always  within  reach 


22O  The  Opponents 

of  Tunstall's  spies,  and  all  the  surer  of  it  when 
he  did  not  see  them. 

There  is  a  square  in  Louisville  which,  when 
this  man  and  woman  returned  to  the  city  as  hus 
band  and  wife,  was  one  of  the  most  fashionable 
residential  quarters  of  the  place.  To-day  it  is  a 
square  of  cheap  boarding-houses,  tenements, 
shoe-shops,  plumbers'  shops,  and  laundries,  while 
one  of  the  aristocratic  mansions  of  the  earlier 
time  is  now  occupied  entirely  by  negroes. 
This  is  the  square  on  which  Julius  Knowles 
bought  a  handsome  house,  after  vainly  trying 
to  lease  one  of  the  desirable  houses  that  were 
"  For  Rent,"  though  not  to  him.  Here  the 
Knowleses  made  their  home,  to  the  consterna 
tion  of  the  neighbors,  some  of  whom  quietly 
formed  a  syndicate  among  themselves  and 
offered  Knowles,  through  a  real-estate  agent, 
three  times  what  he  had  paid  for  the  house. 
Failing  in  their  efforts  to  secure  the  departure 
of  the  Knowleses,  these  neighbors  began  grad 
ually  sacrificing  their  own  residences  and  mov 
ing  to  less  objectionable  parts  of  the  city, 
making  room  for  others  not  so  fastidious  as  to 
their  environment.  The  descent  of  the  square, 
thus  begun,  was  easy  and  inevitable. 

The  Knowleses  were  sensible  enough  at  first 


I 


The  Penalty  221 

to  stay  closely  within  their  handsome  house. 
Even  in  summer,  when  everybody  sits  out  of 
doors,  they  did  not  show  themselves.  There 
was  a  hush  over  the  grim  walls  of  the  massive 
building,  a  sombreness  in  its  heavy  shade, 
that  were  impressive  to  those  of  even  little 
imagination.  Passers  turned  curious,  solemn 
faces  to  its  blank  front,  and  nurses  trundled 
their  baby-carriages  on  the  far  side  of  the 
street. 

For  the  first  few  months  these  two,  behind 
the  closed  doors  of  their  home,  convinced 
themselves  that  they  found  enough  in  each 
other  to  make  life  not  only  endurable  but  de 
sirable.  They  had  been  infatuated  with  each 
other;  at  least,  he  had  been  infatuated  with 
her,  and  her  vanity  had  been  intoxicated  with 
his  infatuation.  The  reaction  had  not  yet  come 
fully  to  either.  They  succeeded  in  keeping 
alive  for  a  while  something  of  their  old  passion. 
They  cheated  themselves,  at  times,  into  belief 
that  this  was  enough.  "  Tunstall  was  a  fool," 
Knowles  said  at  one  of  these  times.  "  What 
does  it  matter  where  we  are,  so  that  we  are 
together?" 

But  beyond  this  passion  they  had  little  to 
feed  the  life  they  were  living.  They  might 


222  The  Opponents 

have  got  on  as  well  as  many  married  couples 
if  they  had  not  been  thrown  entirely  on  their 
own  resources,  —  if  he  had  been  in  business,  if 
she  had  had  friends  and  social  distractions. 
But  they  had  only  themselves,  and  they  could 
not  sleep  enough  to  keep  their  waking  hours 
from  dragging.  Knowles  had  been  fond  of 
reading  before  his  marriage;  books  were  a 
dead  language  to  him  now.  He  was  neither 
in  nor  of  their  world ;  he  cared  nothing  for  it ; 
the  volumes  in  the  library  were  so  much  decay 
ing  paper  and  leather.  Sometimes  he  glanced 
at  the  Globe,  though  he  took  little  interest  in 
what  he  saw  there,  and  when  he  found  his  wife 
poring  over  the  "society"  news  through  her 
tears  he  threatened  to  forbid  that  the  sheet 
should  be  brought  into  the  house.  Knowles 
had  loved  merry  company,  and  being  a  man  of 
sufficient  wealth  to  follow  his  inclinations  un 
hampered  by  the  necessity  of  earning  his  daily 
bread,  he  had  usually  found  congenial  and  con 
vivial  companionship,  if  not  in  one  part  of  the 
world,  in  another.  But  the  club,  which  had 
been  the  centre  of  his  life  in  Louisville,  was 
now  closed  to  him,  and  the  good  fellows  who 
had  constituted  his  "  set "  now  passed  him  by 
without  seeing  him.  He  spent  his  days  at 


The  Penalty  223 

home,  smoking,  pulling  the  ears  of  his  dog,  or 
walking  slowly  back  and  forth  under  the  grape 
arbor  at  the  rear  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Knowles  had  one  material  advantage 
over  Knowles  in  getting  through  this  existence : 
she  could  sleep  much  more  than  he  could. 
She  lay  in  bed  till  noon,  with  the  blinds  drawn, 
and  she  could  burrow  on  her  face  at  almost  any 
hour  of  the  afternoon  and  doze.  Then,  too, 
her  toilets  took  up  much  of  her  time.  For 
nearly  a  year  after  her  marriage  to  Knowles 
she  was  exceedingly  careful  about  her  toilets. 
She  was  solicitous  to  preserve  and  heighten 
her  beauty.  It  is  true  that  few  besides  Knowles 
saw  her  during  that  first  year,  but  she  under 
stood  that  she  must  fight  against  the  marks  of 
age  and  decay  if  she  would  retain  Knowles' 
interest,  while,  beyond  that,  she  was  anxious 
that  not  even  the  servants  should  have  reason 
to  notice  that  Mrs.  Knowles  was  any  the  less 
beautiful  or  happy  than  Mrs.  Tunstall  had 
been.  This  engrossment  in  her  dress  was  a 
double  gratification  to  Knowles.  It  preserved 
much  of  the  charm  that  had  at  first  captivated 
him,  and  it  afforded  him  hours  of  reprieve 
from  the  task  of  trying  to  entertain  her  and  of 
pretending  to  be  entertained  by  her.  It  gave 


224  The  Opponents 

him  hours  for  the  more  satisfying  employment 
of  pulling  the  ears  of  his  dog. 

Mrs.  Knowles  also  had  frequent  recourse  to 
the  piano.  She  had  learned  partially  three 
"  pieces  "  at  school,  and  she  thrummed  them  on 
an  excellent  piano  with  a  great  deal  of  energy. 
Knowles,  who  was  an  ardent  lover  of  good 
music,  was  reconciled  to  his  wife's  three  pieces. 
They  not  only  occupied  considerable  of  her 
time,  but  they  occupied  it  usually  at  dusk,  when 
the  neighbors  were  sitting  on  their  porches, 
an  hour  which  Mrs.  Knowles  seemed  to  think 
especially  suitable  for  indicating  that  the  closed 
doors  of  her  own  house  did  not  exclude  domes 
tic  gayeties  and  graces,  and  certainly  an  hour 
especially  suitable  for  the  strolls  of  Knowles 
and  his  dog  out  the  back  way  and  over  the 
commons.  Those  strolls  with  his  dog  over  the 
darkening  fields  were  almost  cheerful  hiatuses 
in  the  routine  of  Knowles'  existence  at  that 
period. 

Another  pastime  of  Mrs.  Knowles  was  to 
stand  behind  the  blinds  and  watch  those  who 
walked  or  drove  by.  Sometimes  her  face 
flushed,  but  more  often  hardened,  as  she  saw 
the  cold  countenances  turned  curiously  on  her 
house,  and  again  she  shrank  back  suddenly  as 


The  Penalty  225 

if  fearing  discovery  by  those  who  had  once 
been  her  associates  and  even  friends.  Knowles 
found  her  at  two  o'clock  one  morning  kneeling 
in  her  night-gown  at  a  window  and  peering  at 
the  house  next  door  —  before  its  owners  had 
given  it  up  to  the  dyers  and  the  massage  pro 
fessor —  listening  to  the  old  familiar  dance 
music  and  intent  on  catching  a  glimpse,  among 
the  dancers  or  the  departing  guests,  of  those 
she  had  once  known. 

After  dark  it  was  some  easier,  at  least  on 
Knowles.  The  two  could  kill  the  hours  before 
bedtime  in  long  walks  or  longer  drives ;  silent,  it 
is  true,  for  the  most  part,  but  relieved  to  some 
extent  by  varying  scene  and  incident  on  which 
a  remark  could  be  hung.  It  was  motion,  it 
was  change,  and  though  commonplace  enough, 
it  gave  better  sleep  afterward  ;  while  even  com 
monplaces  were  important  to  lives  in  whose 
stagnation  the  daily  visits  of  the  butcher  and 
the  annual  arrival  of  the  caterpillars  were 
notable  events.  Still,  those  evening  walks  and 
drives  with  his  wife  were  not  to  Knowles  all 
that  his  strolls  with  his  dog  were. 

In  the  first  few  weeks  after  the  couple's  re 
turn  to  Louisville  Mrs.  Knowles  had  discovered 
that  her  husband  was  not  immune  from  jeal- 


226  The  Opponents 

ousy.  He  had  come  in  one  evening  and  found 
her  at  the  door  talking  to  a  well-dressed  man. 
She  had  explained  truthfully  that  the  stranger 
had  rung  the  bell  believing  that  the  former 
owner  of  the  house  still  resided  there,  and 
Knowles  had  endeavored  with  poor  success  to 
conceal  his  sudden  doubts.  Several  evenings 
afterward,  returning  later  than  usual  from  his 
stroll  with  the  dog,  he  found  a  line  from  his 
wife  informing  him  that  she  had  gone  over 
to  a  little  park  with  her  maid  for  a  few  min 
utes  to  listen  to  the  open-air  concert.  He  had 
crushed  the  note  in  his  clenched  hand  and 
stalked  straightway  to  the  park,  to  find  her 
sitting  in  the  shadow,  on  a  bench  on  which, 
besides  the  maid,  was  this  very  stranger. 
Knowles  took  her  home,  and  the  explosion 
came.  It  was  in  vain  she  protested  that  his 
charges  were  ridiculous ;  that  she  had  not  even 
exchanged  a  word  with  the  man ;  that  he  had 
taken  his  seat  on  the  bench,  which  was  public 
and  one  of  many,  without  any  attempt  to  open 
conversation  with  her  and  without  appearing 
even  to  notice  her.  Knowles  would  not  listen. 
He  did  not  wish  to  hear  anything  she  might  say. 
He  would  not  believe  anything  she  chose  to 
say  about  such  a  matter.  Morgan  Tunstall 


The  Penalty  227 

may  have  trusted  her  once;  no  other  man 
ever  would. 

That  had  been  the  beginning  of  months 
of  espionage  on  her  by  Knovvles,  of  vigilant 
watching,  of  sly  traps  laid  for  her,  of  incessant 
suspicion,  hot  reproaches,  coarse  accusations. 
It  was  before  he  ceased  to  care.  Afterward, 
when  he  cared  for  nothing  except  his  degene 
rate  life,  and  least  of  all  for  her,  the  jealousy 
was  hers,  besetting  him  in  tearful  whines  and 
peevish  nagging,  and  culminating  one  night 
when  she  followed  him  to  the  entrance  of  a 
disreputable  dance  hall  and  was  knocked  down 
by  him  in  his  brandy-inflamed  exasperation. 

Soon  after  their  return  to  Louisville  they 
had'  assumed  a  brave  front  and  gone  to  one  of 
the  theatres,  but  the  frigid  faces  of  former  as 
sociates  they  saw  there,  the  row  of  forbidding 
countenances  they  passed  in  order  to  get  to 
their  seats,  the  quiet  desertion  for  another  part 
of  the  house  by  a  pair  who  had  adjoining  seats, 
deterred  them  from  making  another  venture  in 
public  until  the  time  came  when  they  put 
qn  frigid  faces  themselves  and  defiantly  went 
where  they  chose,  if  admission  was  to  be  had 
by  purchase. 

It  was  in  the  second  year  after  their  marriage, 


228  The  Opponents 

while  yet  life  together  was  tolerable,  that  their 
child  was  born.  When  Mrs.  Knowles  came 
out  of  the  shadow,  it  was  broken  to  her  by  her 
husband  that  the  baby  had  died,  and  later, 
when  she  insisted  on  visiting  its  grave,  he  ex 
plained  to  her  that  the  grave  was  in  his  family 
burying-ground  in  Virginia;  that  no  child  of 
theirs  should  sleep  in  Kentucky  soil ;  that  he 
had  sent  the  little  body  to  his  old  home,  in 
order  that  its  last  resting-place  might  be  free 
from  the  shame  it  could  not  have  escaped  in 
Louisville.  It  was  not  till  three  years  after 
ward  that  in  one  of  his  outbursts  of  contemptu 
ous  passion  Knowles  revealed  to  her  the  truth. 

"  The  child  is  not  dead !  "  he  had  gloated 
over  her.  "  I  took  her  from  your  side  because 
I  would  not  allow  her  to  draw  sustenance  from 
such  a  mother ;  because  I  would  not  allow  her 
to  breathe  your  atmosphere,  to  be  infected  by 
your  influence,  to  be  contaminated  by  your 
depravity,  to  share  your  disgrace.  She  is 
growing  up  among  honest  people;  she  has 
been  given  an  honest  name;  she  has  been 
taught  that  her  father  and  mother  are  dead ; 
she  is  ignorant  of  her  origin,  and  she  shall 
always  remain  ignorant  of  it." 

Subsequently,  when  the  mother  declared  her 


The  Penalty  229 

intention  of  going  to  her  daughter,  Knowles 
had  quietly  replied : 

"  You  will  do  no  such  thing ;  and  for  several 
good  reasons.  You  should  not  have  forgotten 
yet  that  Morgan  Tunstall  does  not  propose  to 
let  you  leave  Louisville  alive  during  my  life 
time,  and  even  if  you  escaped  him,  you  could 
not  escape  me.  I  do  not  propose  to  let  you 
leave  Louisville  alive  while  that  child  is  outside 
of  Louisville.  But  should  you  elude  both  Tun- 
stall  and  me,  you  would  be  far  from  accomplish 
ing  your  purpose.  The  family  into  which  the 
child  has  been  taken  know  you  and  your  his 
tory,  and  they  would  guard  your  daughter  from 
you  as  relentlessly  as  I  do." 

But  it  was  not  such  threats  as  these  that 
most  restrained  Mrs.  Knowles  from  going 
to  her  daughter.  It  was  the  woman's  com 
mon  sense,  made  acute  in  the  school  of  her 
own  experience,  and  made  stronger  than  her 
maternal  yearning.  Perhaps  it  might  have 
been  different  if  the  mother  had  ever  known 
the  child,  —  if  it  had  ever  had  a  personality  for 
her,  binding  itself  into  her  life  with  the  bonds 
that  only  actual  baby  fingers  know  how  to  tie. 
But -from  the  first  she  had  thought  of  it  as 
dead,  and  now,  after  years,  when  she  knew 


230  The  Opponents 

otherwise,  she  knew  also  that  Julius  Knowles 
was  more  than  half  right.  It  was  better  as  it 
was.  It  would  be  the  act  of  a  mother  unwor- 
thier  even  than  Julius  Knowles  held  her  to  open 
the  eyes  of  an  innocent  girl  to  such  shame  as 
the  world  would  allot  her  as  the  daughter  of 
Julius  and  Grace  Knowles.  She  made  no  effort 
to  interfere  with  Knowles'  disposition  of  the 
child.  She  acquiesced  in  its  loss  to  her  as 
another  feature  of  the  inexorable  penalty  she 
was  paying  every  hour  of  her  life. 

As  the  years  passed,  this  man  and  woman 
ceased  all  pretence  of  interest  in  each  other. 
She,  no  longer  caring  to  please  him,  lapsed 
into  the  lassitude  of  a  slattern ;  he,  fastidious 
as  he  had  once  been  regarding  her  personal 
appearance,  was  eventually  callous  even  to 
disgust  at  her  slovenliness.  Though  each  in 
turn  had  burned  with  jealousy  and  distrust  of 
the  other,  they  later  reached  a  point  where  he 
went  his  way  and  she  hers,  both  relieved  at  the 
divergence  of  their  paths,  and  neither  con 
cerned  as  to  where  the  path  of  the  other  led. 
They  continued  to  make  their  home  in  the 
same  house,  but  beyond  that  there  was  no 
contact  with  each  other,  even  superficially. 
She  found  a  way  of  prolonging  her  sleeping 


The  Penalty  231 

hours  and  of  stimulating  the  dreams  and  phan 
tasms  of  her  waking,  while  he  sought  society 
and  diversion  in  drinking-saloons  and  gambling- 
rooms. 

The  penalty  inflicted  on  these  two  by  Morgan 
Tunstall  bore  more  heavily  on  the  man  than  on 
the  woman.  She  merely  degenerated ;  he  died. 
Once,  in  his  last  besotted  days,  when  he  real 
ized  that  the  end  was  near,  he  braced  himself 
with  brandy  and  taking  a  pistol  went  in  search 
of  Tunstall,  determined  to  surrender  his  few 
remaining  hours  of  life,  if  necessary,  to  settle 
his  score  with  Tunstall.  But  even  then  his 
courage  failed  him,  and  he  dared  not  face  his 
old  enemy,  but  crept  back  to  the  bed  from 
which  he  did  not  rise  again,  his  strongest  curse 
being  for  his  own  cowardice. 

The  death  of  Julius  Knowles  left  his  widow 
free  to  go  where  she  pleased,  according  to  the 
terms  of  Tunstall's  sentence,  under  which  the 
two  had  supposed  they  had  lived  all  the  years 
since  its  pronouncement.  But  at  first  she  did 
not  change  her  place  or  mode  of  life.  She  no 
longer  cared  for  freedom.  There  was  nowhere 
to  go,  nothing  outside  the  old  existence  to  in 
vite  her  interest  —  until  one  day  she  read  in 
the  Globe  of  Margaret  Helm's  arrival  in  the 


232  The  Opponents 

West  Virginia  mountains.  She  read  the  item 
many  times  that  day;  she  hunted  the  paper 
again  and  read  the  paragraph  over  the  follow 
ing  day.  Then  a  touch  of  living  color  came 
into  her  face,  and  she  moved  about  the  house 
for  the  first  time  in  many  months  as  one  who 
had  some  definite  object  in  view.  She  di 
rected  that  her  wardrobe  be  put  in  order;  she 
got  out  once  more  her  old  powders  and  paints ; 
and  shortly  afterward  she  had  taken  possession, 
with  her  maid,  of  one  of  the  cottages  at  the 
mountain  resort  where  Margaret  Helm  and 
the  Letchers  were  spending  the  latter  half  of 
the  summer. 


XIX 

ANOTHER  PENALTY 

THE  Yardley  convention  was  the  last  of  the 
county  conventions  preliminary  to  the  district 
convention,  which  was  to  assemble  at  Brace- 
bury  about  two  weeks  later  and  make  the  nomi 
nation  for  Congress.  Morgan  Tunstall,  knowing 
that  he  had  done  his  work  well  and  feeling  con 
fident  as  to  the  outcome,  decided  that  during 
these  intervening  two  weeks  he  would  turn  his 
back  on  politics  and  take  a  rest  in  the  West 
Virginia  mountains.  Ordinarily  nothing  would 
have  diverted  him  from  the  field  of  a  political 
battle  before  its  result  was  declared,  even 
though,  as  in  this  instance,  he  was  sure  that 
he  had  done,  or  could  yet  direct,  all  that  could 
be  done;  but  now,  after  summoning  two  or 
three  of  his  campaign  managers  and  giving 
them  explicit  instructions  as  to  what  remained 
to  be  looked  after,  he  left  the  scene  of  the 
struggle  at  Yardley  and  turned  toward  Mar 
garet  Helm  with  a  sense  of  relief  and  elation. 


234  The  Opponents 

Before,  political  battles  had  been  sufficient  in 
themselves  to  absorb  his  first  interests  and  to 
monopolize  his  energies ;  now,  they  were  things 
that  must  be  got  through  with  in  order  that  he 
might  find  time  to  be  with  her,  things  to  be 
won  as  trophies  for  her.  Tunstall  smiled  boy 
ishly  as  he  recognized  this  transition  in  himself. 
It  was  a  new  birth  that  he  had  never  dreamed 
of  as  possible,  an  obliteration  and  recreation 
that  stirred  him  profoundly  and  exquisitely. 
"  I  am  young  again,"  he  told  himself  as  the 
train  bore  him  on  toward  those  magical  moun 
tains  ;  "  I  have  no  past,  and  the  future  is  all 
mine.  It  is  youth,  real  youth,  in  all  but  counted 
years,  which  are  counted  no  longer.  And, 
thank  God,"  glancing  at  his  beaming  face  in 
the  panelled  mirror  of  the  car,  "  I  do  not  even 
look  old.  I  am  not  old !  I  am  not  even 
fifty  yet!" 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  he  reached 
his  destination.  As  the  stage-coach  that  bore 
him  from  the  railway  station  neared  the  old 
hotel  in  the  mountains,  he  experienced  a  strange 
new  impatience  and  expectancy.  Somehow 
it  was  as  if  he  were  approaching  the  goal 
toward  which  all  his  longings  and  hopes  had 
set,  and  where  their  full  realization  awaited 


Another  Penalty  235 


him.  He  was  almost  as  a  child  in  his  repeated 
interrogation  of  the  driver  as  to  the  distance 
yet  to  be  traversed,  and  when  at  last  he  was 
answered  that  at  the  next  turn  of  the  road 
the  springs  would  be  in  sight  his  pulse  was 
pounding  in  his  temples  till  the  voice  of  the 
driver  seemed  to  sink  into  an  echo.  At  the 
turn  of  the  road  Tunstall's  eyes  softened  and 
his  breath  suspended.  Swell  on  swell  of  the 
mountain  billows  stretched  away  mistily  in  the 
moonlight,  and  in  their  midst  the  great  hotel, 
that  held  all  his  world  now,  lay  sombre  and 
silent,  like  some  anchored,  sleeping  ship. 

Drawing  nearer,  Tunstall,  who  had  fought 
his  way  among  men  with  never  a  too  scrupulous 
hand,  felt  the  awe  of  a  new  reverence  as  he 
gazed  up  at  the  windows  of  this  solemn  pile, 
wondering  which  of  them  were  hers,  and  know 
ing  her  presence  as  the  worshipper  knows  the 
unseen  spirit  of  the  shrine  before  which  he 
bows.  With  this  spell  upon  Tunstall,  the  rasp 
ing  halloo  of  the  stage-driver,  out  of  humor 
because  his  solitary  passenger  had  refused  to 
wait  till  morning  to  make  the  trip  from  the 
station  to  the  hotel,  was  gratingly  discordant, 
and  Tunstall,  as  silent  as  the  awakened  clerk 
and  porter,  was  shown  to  his  room,  acutely 


236  The  Opponents 

conscious,  in  every  hall  and  corridor  of  the  old 
building  through  which  he  passed,  of  the  near 
ness  of  Margaret  Helm. 

He  was  up  early  the  next  morning,  long 
before  there  was  any  probability  of  seeing 
Margaret,  and  at  last,  after  he  had  breakfasted 
with  her  and  the  Letchers,  he  requested  - 
almost  ordered  —  Margaret,  as  they  stepped 
out  on  the  gallery: 

"  Come  with  me  now  and  show  me  something 
of  the  place." 

There  was  not  much  to  show,  and  a  quarter 
of  an  hour's  stroll  found  them  standing  on  the 
grassy  dome  of  the  nearest  hill,  from  which  was 
the  favorite  outlook  upon  the  surrounding 
panorama  of  valley,  ravine,  and  mountain-side, 
and  at  the  base  of  which  lay  the  path  from  the 
hotel  to  the  dense  woodland  beyond.  Several 
rustic  seats  had  been  constructed  on  this  hill, 
and  on  one  of  these  Margaret  was  resting 
after  her  climb.  Tunstall  had  thrown  himself 
down  on  the  turf,  and  was  looking  up  at  her 
rather  than  out  on  the  various  aspects  of  the 
landscape  which  she  was  indicating. 

"  But  I  'm  afraid  our  scenery  does  not  inter 
est  you,"  she  said,  pausing  and  smiling  down 
on  him. 


Another  Penalty  237 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  he  answered  quickly ;  "  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world  —  at  least,  some 
of  it  that  I  have  not  beheld  since  you  left 
Kentucky." 

Her  smile  vanished  instantly,  and  a  tint  of 
pink  dawned  in  the  light  which  to  Tunstall 
seemed  to  radiate  softly  from  her  face,  so  lumi 
nously  clear  against  its  background  of  dark 
green  foliage.  Tunstall  realized  that  he  had 
been  blunt  and  crude,  and  he  flushed  a  little 
himself. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  meant  to  be  flippant !  " 
he  begged,  raising  himself  to  a  more  erect  and 
more  rigid  posture.  "  That  speech  was  de 
cidedly  raw,  but  a  worse  objection  to  it,  as  I 
see  it,  is  that  it  signified  so  little  of  what  I  did 
mean." 

She  was  at  ease  again  now,  and  her  smile, 
more  brilliant  than  before,  had  returned. 

"  Then  let  it  stand,"  she  said  with  determined 
lightness.  "  Surely  it  is  only  the  speeches  that 
mean  things  that  need  to  be  apologized  for  on 
such  a  morning  as  this." 

"  I  shall  not  apologize  for  it,"  he  went  on, 
stubbornly  refusing  to  fall  into  the  mood  she 
had  assumed,  "  though  it  means  much  —  much 
which  I  did  not  intend  to  say  when  I  came  up 


238  The  Opponents 

here  this  morning,  but  which  I  did  intend  to  say 
some  time  very  soon,  and  which  it  has  been  my 
one  purpose  to  say  almost  from  the  moment  I 
first  met  you." 

"  Please,  not  now  —  not  yet !  "  she  pleaded, 
her  face  suddenly  grave  with  apprehension  and 
appeal. 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  restrain  myself  any  longer," 
he  answered  almost  fiercely.  "  I  ought  to  have 
spoken  before  this.  It  was  due  to  you.  There 
are  things  which  you  should  know,  whatever 
your  —  your  final  attitude  toward  me  may 
be.  I  want  to  explain  them  now,  and  then, 
if  you  insist,  I  shall  go  no  further  until  I 
have  your  permission,  if  I  am  ever  to  have 
that." 

"  Perhaps  I  already  know  what  you  would 
explain,"  she  said  gently. 

"  No !  no !  You  cannot.  You  may  have 
heard  something  —  anything.  But  you  cannot 
have  heard  the  truth.  No  one  on  earth  knows 
that,  except  me  and  one  other,  whom  you  could 
never  meet  —  who  could  not  breathe  the  same 
air  with  you.  You  probably  have  heard  that 
I  once  had  a  wife,  that  she  proved  false,  that  I 
secured  a  divorce.  If  that  were  all,  or  even  the 
worst,  I  could  face  you  now  with  less  flinching. 


Another  Penalty  239 

All  that  is  true  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  7  went 
much  farther  than  that.  I  took  the  law  of  man 
and  God  into  my  own  hands,  and  read  it  as  only 
vengeance.  Under  that  law  of  my  own  usurpa 
tion  I  set  myself  up  as  judge  and  executioner, 
and  the  penalty  I  exacted  was  the  most  terrible 
I  could  conceive.  You  shall  see  when  I  tell 
you  what  I  have  told  no  one  else.  It  was  — 
well,  she  was  false,  as  I  have  said.  I  learned 
it  suddenly.  My  first  impulse  was  to  kill 
her,  to  kill  him.  If  they  had  had  a  million 
lives,  I  could  have  taken  them  all  and  still 
should  not  have  been  satiated.  But  death  is 
too  swift,  too  merciful.  I  wanted  some  punish 
ment  for  them  more  in  accordance  with  the 
crime  they  had  committed.  If  I  could  have 
been  sure  of  their  tortures  after  death,  if  I 
could  have  devised  and  directed  those  tor 
tures,  I  should  have  killed  them  —  provided 
I  had  not  thought  of  a  punishment  which  to 
me  seemed  more  horrible  than  any  that  could 
be  inflicted  in  another  world." 

She  was  looking  at  him  as  one  half  unwilling 
to  listen,  yet  intently  held  by  what  he  was  say 
ing  and  by  his  strongly  wrought  manner.  He 
thought  he  detected  here  a  fleeting  quiver  of 
the  eyelids,  a  slight  shrinking  from  him,  and 


240  The  Opponents 

he  paused.  His  hand  closed  with  seeming 
unconsciousness  on  a  tuft  of  grass,  which  he 
pulled  from  the  ground ;  his  eyes  dully  swept 
the  horizon;  then,  returning  to  hers,  blazed 
steadily  with  his  purpose,  as  he  continued : 

"  I  did  not  kill  them,  but  gave  them  the 
choice  of  dying  or  of  living  inseparably  in  their 
shame  as  husband  and  wife,  in  the  city  where 
they  had  always  lived,  among  those  who  best 
knew  their  infamy.  They  chose  the  latter 
alternative,  and  paid  the  penalty  to  which  I 
condemned  them,  he  escaping  it  finally  in 
death,  and  she  facing  it  out  to  the  end  in  the 
isolation  and  ostracism  of  a  social  outcast." 

He  desisted  again,  waiting  as  if  for  some 
word  from  her,  but  she  gave  none,  her  eyes 
falling  beneath  his  scrutiny  and  resting  on  her 
hands,  which  she  clasped  a  little  convulsively 
in  her  lap. 

"  After  the  first  few  weeks  I  took  no  further 
interest  in  the  case,  and  did  nothing  and  would 
have  done  nothing  to  enforce  the  penalty  I 
had  pronounced  upon  them;  but  they  were 
doubtless  ignorant  of  that ;  and  so,  in  the  final 
balancing  of  the  account  between  us,  I  suppose 
I  must  be  credited  with  the  execution  of  the 
full  sentence. 


Another  Penalty  241 

"That  is,  in  brief,  my  story.  The  part  I 
played  in  it  has  never  disturbed  me  in  the  least 
until  recently  —  until  I  met  you.  Then,  for 
the  first  time,  I  began  to  pay  the  penalty  I  had 
inflicted  upon  myself;  for  I  began  to  realize 
that  sometime  I  must  tell  you  this  story,  and 
that,  when  told,  it  would  place  another  and, 
perhaps,  insuperable  barrier  between  us ;  but, 
hardest  of  all,  I  realized  that,  remaining  un 
told,  it  would  be  a  still  greater  barrier  between 
us." 

He  studied  her  face  earnestly  for  some  sign 
of  her  spirit  toward  him.  It  was  a  very  serious 
face,  a  very  sad  face,  with  eyes  fixed  far  beyond 
him  on  the  distant  mountain  tops,  but  it  was  a 
face  whose  seriousness  and  sadness  were  as 
vague  and  uninterpretable  as  the  mists  which 
seemed  to  veil  alike  those  mountain  tops  and 
the  eyes  that  were  drawn  to  them. 

"  I  am  not  asking  of  you  anything  now,"  he 
went  on,  with  a  rough  tension  in  his  voice, 
"  except  that  if  it  is  possible,  in  the  beauty 
and  charity  of  your  heart,  you  will  not  let  the 
story  I  have  told  you  bar  me  from  your  friend 
ship  entirely.  Do  not  judge  me  irrevocably 
too  hastily,  too  justly.  Make  some  allowance 
for  the  fact  that  I  am  a  man  —  a  misshapen 
16 


242  The  Opponents 

abortion  of  a  man  —  whose  passions  and  short 
comings  no  woman  —  no  woman  like  you  — 
can  fully  understand.  Judge  me,  if  you  can, 
with  mercy  instead  of  with  justice." 

Her  eyes  fell  to  him  now,  and  there  was 
something  in  their  shadowy  depths  that  re 
called  to  him  suddenly  a  look  that  he  had  seen 
only  once  before,  in  the  eyes  of  his  mother  as 
she  gazed  so  long  for  the  last  time  upon  his 
little  face.  There  was  something  too  in  Mar 
garet's  voice  which  seemed  to  speak  from  her 
eyes  as  she  answered  simply : 

"  I  shall  not  judge  you.  It  is  not  for  me  to 
judge." 

The  words  moved  him  for  the  moment  be 
yond  the  power  of  reply.  A  little  folded  fan 
had  slipped  from  her  lap,  and  he  caught  it  up 
in  his  two  hands,  bowing  his  head  over  it  and 
kissing  it. 

"  How  like  you !  "  he  said  gratefully.  "  But 
it  was  I  who  insisted  that  it  was  only  for  me  to 
judge  those  two  poor  fools.  Your  very  mercy 
is  to  that  extent  a  condemnation." 

He  lifted  his  face  to  hers  again  and  spoke 
with  increased  passion : 

"  And  yet  it  is  your  mercy  that  I  want.  Do 
not  withhold  it.  Give  me  a  chance  to  redeem 


Another  Penalty  243 

myself.  I  know  that  I  am  selfish  and  base  still 
in  putting  it  in  that  way,  but  I  am  at  least 
honest.  My  only  chance  is  through  you. 
There  is  not  enough  good  in  me  to  redeem 
me  for  its  own  sake.  I  want  redemption  simply 
because  I  want  to  be  nearer  you,  with  you, 
worthier  of  you." 

A  shadow  of  trouble  brooded  over  her  face 
as  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  I  think  I  have  said  all  there  is  to  say,"  she 
replied  in  her  low,  gravest  voice.  "  I  do  not 
judge  you,  and  I  am  still  your  friend." 

He  stood  up  beside  her,  stepping  in  front  of 
her,  to  the  path  descending  the  hill. 

"  Don't  go  yet,"  he  interposed.  "  I  have  not 
finished.  You  will  listen  to  me?  " 

"  Is  —  is  it  necessary?     Is  it  best?  " 

"  It  is  fair.  You  must  hear  me  some  time. 
It  is  fair,  I  think,  that  having  said  as  much  as 
I  have,  I  should  say  more.  Remember  I  am 
asking  you  nothing  now  except  that  you  hear 
me.  Won't  you  sit  down  again  ?  I  shall  not 
detain  you  long." 

She  took  the  seat  from  which  she  had  risen. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  standing  above  her, 
his  hands   awkwardly  in   his  pockets.      "  I  — 
well,  I  thought  I  had  done  with  women  before 


244  The  Opponents 

I  met  you ;  then  I  knew  I  had  never  really  be 
gun  with  them.  It  has  been  bad  for  me,  I  fear, 
that  I  did  not  meet  you  long  ago.  It  is  only 
since  I  knew  you  that  I  have  had  any  desire  to 
be  what  such  as  you  would  call  a  decent  man ; 
that  I  have  regretted  my  squandered  years, 
my  perverted  energies.  It  is  only  since  then 
that  I  have  felt  the  sting,  if  not  of  conscience, 
of  consciousness;  that  I  have  realized  that 
while  I  have  been  called  a  strong  man,  I  have 
been  a  weak  one,  swallowed  by,  instead  of 
strangling,  the  demon  of  my  rage,  and  throw 
ing  away  my  subsequent  life  because  of  the 
treachery  of  two  weak  creatures  whom  I  had 
trusted.  I  should  have  been  considered  as 
weak  as  they  if  I  had  gone  to  the  dogs  of 
dissipation  and  self-destruction  on  account  of 
their  treachery;  but,  after  all,  it  was  dissipa 
tion  that  I  plunged  into  —  that  of  what  we  call 
practical  politics  —  and  in  it  I  have  almost  ac 
complished  moral  self-destruction.  My  dissi 
pation  has  been  to  make,  for  my  personal 
pastime,  sport  of  those  things  which  men  more 
deserving  of  your  respect  guard  and  cherish  as 
the  very  foundations  of  our  system  of  national 
existence  and  well-being.  Nothing  that  I  have 
done  in  all  these  years,  though  sometimes  it 


Another  Penalty  245 

may  have  resulted  for  the  good  of  others,  has 
been  done  with  that  object,  but  only  because 
the  doing  of  it  gave  me  occupation  and  proved 
my  powers.  I  do  not  believe  my  political 
methods  have  been  so  bad  that  they  would 
not  be  considered  legitimate  by  the  politi 
cians  generally,  though  some  of  them  have 
not  been  such  as  I  could  explain  to  you 
with  confidence  of  your  approval.  But  do 
not  think  I  am  pleading  repentance  in  my 
own  behalf  now  —  I  fear  I  only  repent  be 
cause  my  sins  have  so  widened  the  gulf 
between  you  and  me  —  nor  must  you  infer 
that  I  am  claiming  a  complete  eleventh-hour 
reformation.  Even  in  my  present  political 
undertaking  —  the  only  one  made  from  any 
higher  motive  than  personal  divertisement ;  the 
one  in  which  I  am  enlisted  earnestly,  ardently 
because  I  would  have  something  better  than  a 
wasted  past  to  offer  you  —  I  must  confess  that 
I  have  employed  some  campaign  tactics  that  I 
am  not  proud  of  when  your  eyes  look  into 
mine,  and  that  would  never  be  countenanced 
in  his  own  interest  by  the  splendid  young  fel 
low  who  is  my  opponent.  I  am  trying  to  show 
you,  not  that  I  can  ever  be  worthy  of  you,  but 
that  it  is  only  through  you  that  I  have  real- 


246  The  Opponents 

ized  how  unworthy  I  am,  or  that  I  hope  to  be 
any  worthier." 

His  voice  had  deepened  and  filled  with  a 
burden  that  retarded  and  finally  seemed  to 
weight  it  to  a  stop.  He  paused,  his  lips  com 
pressed,  his  steadfast  gaze  seeking  to  penetrate 
the  curtains  of  her  fallen  lids.  When  they 
lifted  a  little  after  he  ceased  speaking,  her  eyes, 
sorrowful  and  compassionate,  yet  unrevealing 
that  which  he  yearned  most  to  see,  looked 
frankly,  unwaveringly  into  his. 

He  took  a  step  toward  her,  throwing  out 
his  arm  in  a  gesture  of  impetuous  power, 
only  to  drop  it  again  impotently  at  his 
side. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  forget  it  all !  "  he  cried,  — 
"  everything  until  I  met  you  !  And  why  not, 
if  you  will  let  me?  Yes,  why  not?  We  live 
to-day,  not  yesterday.  I  never  had  a  chance 
for  life  until  I  knew  you.  I  want  to  begin 
over.  I  want  to  look  forward  and  upward  to  — 
to  you.  I  want  to  do,  to  be  what  is  in  me  to  do 
and  be  that  will  please  you.  I  want  to  be  dif 
ferent  because  I  despise  myself  when  I  see 
myself  as  you  must  see  me.  I  want  to  be  dif 
ferent  because  I  worship  you.  I  want  you 
to  help  me  forget  my  past  by  forgetting  as 


Another  Penalty  247 

much  of  it  yourself  as  you  can.  A  woman  can 
forget  much  for  the  sake  of  a  man  who  loves 
her  as  I  do  you ;  she  cannot  help  forgetting  it 
if  there  is  in  her  own  heart  any  response  to  his 
love.  Can  you?  Will  you?  Ugh!"  brush 
ing  his  hand  across  his  forehead  with  fierce  im 
patience,  "what  am  I  raving?  I  love  you, 
Margaret.  Everything  I  have  said  or  could 
say  resolves  itself  to  that.  I  promised  not  to 
ask  of  you  anything  now,  and  yet  I  am  asking 
you  all.  But  why  not?  If  there  is  anything 
in  the  future  for  me,  why  not  give  it  to  me  — 
or  at  least  give  me  hope  of  it — now?  I  have 
gone  so  long  without  you  —  every  hour  be 
fore  me  is  so  long  without  you  —  if  there  is 
anything  you  can  give  me,  Margaret,  give  it 
now." 

He  stood  motionless,  it  seemed  breathless,  in 
his  suspense,  waiting  for  some  sign,  searching 
for  it  with  eyes  that  might  have  burned  it  out 
of  her  inmost  self. 

She  could  not  face  their  fire.  Her  head 
drooped,  her  bosom  swelled,  the  glow  that  had 
warmed  brow,  cheeks,  and  neck  faded  slowly. 
Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  and  her  eyes 
fluttered  for  a  moment  upon  his.  She  spoke 
as  one  half  frightened,  wholly  candid : 


248  The  Opponents 

"  Do  not  press  me  for  an  answer  now.  I  can 
not  give  it  definitely.  I  —  do  not  know  my 
self  yet." 

It  was  as  if  his  lungs  had  been  suddenly 
filled  with  a  salt  gust  from  Northern  seas.  His 
lax  form  straightened,  his  chest  distended, 
and  his  head  was  high  in  the  invigorating 
gale.  He  looked  at  her  in  wordless  exaltation. 
Abruptly  the  eyes  which  had  not  known  tears 
since  boyhood  were  wet.  His  throat  heaved, 
and  leaning  over,  he  raised  Margaret's  hand  to 
his  lips. 

"  Thank  God  for  this !  "  he  said  with  almost 
inaudible  depth  of  voice.  "  You  have  not  yet 
cast  me  out !  " 

She  moved  to  go  now,  and  he,  turning  to 
descend  the  hill  with  her,  was  startled  by  the 
unwholesome  face  of  a  woman,  made  ghastlier 
by  the  heliotrope  lining  of  the  parasol  thrown 
across  her  shoulder,  and  made  more  repulsive 
by  the  sneer  on  her  lips  and  in  her  eyes.  She 
was  standing  in  the  path  below,  looking  up  at 
Margaret  and  Tunstall.  As  he  saw  her,  an  in 
articulate  exclamation  of  astonishment,  anger, 
and  disgust  escaped  Tunstall,  and  he  noticed, 
as  Margaret  glanced  down  to  seek  the  cause 
of  his  exclamation,  that  the  sneer  on  the 


Another  Penalty  249 

woman's  face  gave  place  to  a  forced  smile,  as 
she  nodded  and  walked  on  toward  the  woods 
with  a  conventional  — 

"  Good-morning." 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Knowles,"  he  was 
amazed  to  hear  Margaret  kindly  return. 


XX 

THE  LIGHT  THAT  BLASTS 

TUNSTALL'S  jaws  were  clamped,  and  he  did  not 
speak  until  he  was  half-way  down  the  hill,  which 
he  was  descending  with  a  savage  desire  to 
lengthen  and  quicken  his  stride  far  beyond  the 
pace  necessary  to  keep  him  by  Margaret's  side. 

"  You  seem  to  know  that  woman,"  he  finally 
said,  with  a  new  hardness  in  his  voice. 

"  Who?  "  Margaret  asked,  as  if  aroused  from 
a  revery.  "Oh!  Mrs.  Knowles?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Only  as  we  know  people  at  a  place  like  this 
whom  we  speak  to  in  passing  and  perhaps  ex 
change  a  few  commonplaces  with  occasionally." 

"  You  are  aware  who  she  is,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Beyond  the  facts  that  she  is  said  to  have  an 
ugly  past,  that  the  guests  here  ignore  her,  and 
that  she  is  evidently  not  at  all  happy,  I  know 
nothing  of  her." 

"  Then  don't  seek  any  closer  intimacy  with 
her.  She  is,"  pausing  and  turning  with  grim 


The  Light  that  Blasts         251 

visage  to  look  for  a  moment  at  the  retreating 
figure,  "  the  woman  I  have  been  telling  you 
of  this  morning." 

There  was  a  vivid  transition  from  bewilder 
ment  to  comprehension,  incredulity,  and  pained 
concern  on  Margaret's  face  as  she  stared  at  him 
with  wide  eyes. 

"  Not  —  "  she  began,  without  the  courage  to 
finish. 

"  Yes.    She  was  once  Mrs.  Morgan  Tunstall." 

"  Oh  !  "  in  faint  distress,  half  extending  her 
hand  to  him  with  a  timid  impulse  of  sympathy, 
and  as  quickly  withdrawing  it,  almost  before 
he  saw  the  gesture.  "  Forgive  me,  please." 

"  Forgive  you  ? "  a  touch  of  ill-concealed 
tenderness  in  his  tone.  "  For  what?  If  I 
had  something  to  forgive  you  for,  I  should 
feel  that  the  distance  between  us,  even  by 
ever  so  little,  was  not  so  vast  as  it  is." 

They  went  on  toward  the  hotel  in  silence, 
with  a  mutual  recognition  that  it  was  now  no 
time  for  words,  she  with  thoughtful  eyes  down 
cast  on  the  path  in  which  she  was  walking, 
and  he  with  high  head  and  set  face,  blindly 
trampling  the  bending  grass  and  weeds  at  her 
side. 

He  accompanied  her  to  the  steps  leading  up 


252  The  Opponents 

to  the  hotel  gallery,  and  in  leaving  her  there 
made  an  effort  to  summon  a  conventionality  in 
a  natural  voice. 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  for  a  good  tramp  through 
the  mountains  before  dinner,"  he  said ;  "  which 
route  would  you  recommend  ?  " 

"  The  road  to  the  left  there  is  considered  the 
most  picturesque,  I  believe,"  she  answered  with 
a  more  successful  assumption  of  normal  ease 
than  his  own  effort  had  been. 

"  Thank  you,"  lifting  his  hat  as  he  receded. 
"  I  hope  I  have  not  overtaxed  you  with  too 
much  exertion  this  warm  morning?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  she  smiled.  "  I  am  not  so 
frail  as  that." 

He  walked  away,  with  an  indifferent  glance 
over  the  lawn,  on  which  he  recognized  several 
people  who  knew  him  and  who  knew  who  Mrs. 
Knowles  was.  He  laughed  a  little  as  he  sneered 
in  an  undertone : 

"  Don't  trouble  yourselves  to  straighten  your 
marshmallow  faces,  and  don't  be  such  hypo 
crites  as  to  pretend  you  don't  know  that  I 
know  just  what  you  have  been  puckering 
and  side-glancing  about,  or  that  it  makes 
a  particle  of  difference  to  me  whether  you 
straighten  or  whether  you  pucker,  or  that  it 


The  Light  that  Blasts         253 

really  matters  to  you  whether  it  makes   any 
difference  to  me." 

A  man  among  them  rose  and  sauntered 
toward  him,  as  if  to  greet  him ;  but  Tunstall, 
not  pausing,  struck  out  into  the  road  which 
Margaret  had  indicated. 

"  Hullo,  Terry ! "  he  called  back,  with  a 
wave  of  the  hand,  in  response  to  the  man's 
salutation.  "  I  'm  off  for  a  stroll.  There  are 
times  for  mountains  and  times  for  marsh- 
mallows;  at  present  the  mountains  have  it." 
Which  Terry  regarded  as  a  poor  sort  of  joke, 
whose  point  he  could  no  more  discover  than 
he  was  expected  to  discover  it. 

It  was  a  picturesque  road,  as  Margaret  Helm 
had  intimated,  though  Tunstall  might  have  been 
blind,  so  little  did  it  impress  him.  He  ploughed 
through  the  dust  and  crashed  over  the  stones, 
no  more  conscious  of  them  than  he  was  of  the 
rugged  beauty  around  and  above  him.  A 
short  hour  before  he  had  risen  out  of  his  old 
self,  out  of  the  ashes  of  old  faiths  and  the  tor 
por  of  the  old  existence,  and  had  caught  again 
the  unfolding  vistas  of  a  promised  land  of 
perennial  blossom  and  fruitage  that  lay  around 
a  home  of  trust  and  truth, —  a  land  that  had 
first  spread  before  him  in  the  morning  of  his 


254  The  Opponents 

youth  and  that  had  vanished,  it  had  seemed 
forever,  in  his  early  manhood.  How  distinct 
and  near  it  had  drawn  before  him  again  to-day, 
as  he  had  stood  before  Margaret  Helm  and  at 
last,  grappling  the  issue  he  had  long  contem 
plated  and  dreaded,  looked  into  her  clear  eyes 
and  revealed  to  her  pure  heart  his  past,  with 
the  purpose  and  hope  he  had  dared  build  above 
it.  And  she  had  not  repulsed  him !  She  had 
not  spurned  him  back  into  the  rayless  past 
from  which  her  own  self  had  lighted  him,  nor 
shut  out  from  him  forever  the  future  to  which 
his  face  was  turned.  She  had  simply  said  that 
she  did  not  know  her  own  heart.  That  meant 
that  nothing  was  yet  impossible  for  him ;  and 
to  Tunstall  the  possible,  once  he  set  his  will 
to  it,  was  ultimately  the  actual.  The  moment 
he  realized  that  Margaret  Helm,  knowing  all, 
had  not,  as  he  expressed  it,  cast  him  out,  had 
been  a  moment  of  awed  ecstasy,  in  which  his 
desires  were  hopes,  all  but  fulfilled.  It  was  in 
that  crowning  moment  of  promise  of  all  that 
he  longed  for  that  there,  in  the  path  on  the 
hillside,  the  incarnation  of  his  past  had  sud 
denly  stood  before  him  in  the  tawdry  figure 
of  a  woman,  confronting  her  who  was  the 
incarnation  of  his  future,  interposing  between 


The  Light  that  Blasts         255 

him  and  that  future  with  all  the  theatric  ap 
position  of  Chance  and  all  the  stern  inexora- 
bleness  of  Fate.  Grace  Knowles  and  Margaret 
Helm  here  together !  Grace  Knowles  and 
Margaret  Helm  speaking  to  each  other,  he 
between  them  !  Grace  Knowles  rising  before 
him  the  instant  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
Margaret  Helm  !  Chance,  Fate  —  whatever 
the  accursed  thing  —  was  sardonic  as  well  as 
theatric  and  stern. 

He  had  been  walking  swiftly  for  perhaps  half 
an  hour  when,  following  the  course  of  the  road, 
as  he  stepped  out  on  a  shelf  of  the  mountain 
he  was  astonished  to  see  rise  before  him,  as 
the  sea  unexpectedly  looms  before  one  through 
a  rift  in  a  dense  forest,  the  green  knoll  on 
which  he  had  stood  that  morning  with  Mar 
garet  Helm.  When  he  left  the  hotel,  the  road 
he  had  taken  led  away  from  rather  than  toward 
this  knoll,  yet  here  it  was,  apparently  so  near 
that  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  almost  leap  from 
the  ledge  where  he  had  now  stopped  to  the 
very  spot  on  which  he  had  stood  when  he  kissed 
Margaret  Helm's  hand.  He  realized,  after  a 
little,  that  the  knoll  must  be  nearly  a  mile 
away,  yet  so  clear  was  the  atmosphere  that  the 
path  which  the  other  woman  had  trod  was  a 


256  The  Opponents 

sharply  distinct  scar,  while  on  the  rustic  seat 
that  Margaret  had  left  was  a  bit  of  white  which 
he  knew  must  be  Margaret's  fan. 

It  had  a  potent  magic  —  that  bit  of  white  — 
and  instantly  turned  Tunstall's  course  and 
stayed  the  current  of  his  mental  chaos.  It 
belonged  to  Margaret;  he  had  seen  it  in  her 
hand;  he  had  seen  it  against  her  cheek;  it 
was  as  if  it  were  a  part  of  Margaret;  it  had 
been  forgotten,  abandoned  to  the  garish  sun, 
to  the  coming  rain,  to  the  first  chance 
wanderer  who  should  ascend  the  hill.  Tun- 
stall,  striding  along  this  mountain  road,  bereft 
of  objective  aim,  of  rational  equilibrium,  sud 
denly  gathered  himself  to  one  crystallized,  be 
calming  purpose.  He  would  hasten  to  the  little 
fragile  thing  that  was  Margaret  Helm's;  he 
would  rescue  it  from  the  sport  of  the  weather ; 
save  it  from  the  hand,  the  eyes  of  a  stranger. 
He  would  take  it  into  his  own  keeping,  as  he  had 
longed,  with  all  that  was  tender  and  strong  in 
him,  to  take  Margaret  herself.  By  such  trifles 
as  this  is  a  man,  even  in  the  emotional  stress 
of  mountain  solitudes,  sometimes  turned  to 
lower  and  saner  levels. 

Tunstall  looked  about  him  for  the  nearest 
way  by  which  he  could  reach  the  hill  where 


The  Light  that  Blasts         257 

Margaret's  fan  was  lying.  To  the  left  the  road 
that  he  had  been  following  veered  farther  and 
higher  toward  the  ridge  of  the  mountains  which 
cut  the  sheer  sky.  A  little  beyond  the  ledge 
on  which  he  was  standing  a  narrow  bridle-path 
branched  from  the  road  and  led  to  the  right 
and  downward,  through  laurel  and  rocks, 
toward  the  forest  beyond  the  hill.  This  path 
promised  to  take  him  at  least  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  hill,  and  instantly  stepping  into  it  he 
was  swallowed  up  in  the  laurel. 

Keeping  to  this  path,  he  finally  entered  the 
stretch  of  forest  which  he  knew  skirted  the  hill 
he  sought.  Turning  again  to  his  right,  he 
walked  back  along  the  rim  of  a  ravine  at  the 
bottom  of  which  a  little  brook  romped.  It  must 
be  the  same  brook  he  had  seen  winding  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  that  morning,  and  that  being 
the  case,  his  course  was  along  the  bank,  up 
stream. 

He  soon  reached  a  road,  and  entering  on  this 
he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  hill  through  the 
trees,  when  he  came  upon  a  woman  sitting  on 
a  boulder  of  the  slope  between  the  road  and 
the  stream. 

She  turned  her  head  toward  him  as  she  heard 
his  footsteps.  At  sight  of  her  face  Tunstall 
17 


258  The  Opponents 

stopped  abruptly,  his  eyes  blazing  out  beneath 
frowning  brows.  Mrs.  Knowles  sprang  to  her 
feet,  with  a  faint  exclamation  of  alarm,  a  real 
pallor  heightening  the  incongruity  of  her  arti 
ficial  coloring. 

The  two  gazed  at  each  other  mutely,  the 
silence  broken  only  by  the  gurgling  brook  and 
by  a  stone  which,  dislodged  by  Mrs.  Knowles 
as  she  rose,  rolled  down  the  rocky  declivity 
into  the  water. 

It  was  but  a  few  seconds  that  they  stared  at 
each  other  thus;  then  Tunstall  turned  con 
temptuously  away  and  walked  on  toward  the 
hill. 

But  he  had  not  gone  half  a  dozen  yards 
when  he  whirled  about  and  went  back  to  Mrs. 
Knowles  with  determined  stride,  his  face  lower 
ing  ominously. 

As  he  came  toward  her,  Mrs.  Knowles'  skin 
mottled  with  conflicting  tides.  She  took  a 
step  backward  as  if  to  retreat,  but  checked 
herself  and  gripping  her  parasol  drove  the  rod 
into  the  ground,  thus  braced  awaiting  him. 
When  he  halted  before  her,  there  was  even  a 
flicker  of  defiance  in  her  eyes. 

"Why  have  you  come  here?"  he  demanded 
imperiously. 


The  Light  that  Blasts         259 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  had  not  yet 
won  her  struggle  for  self-control.  But  she  did 
not  flinch  beneath  his  gaze. 

"Why  have  you  come  here?"  Tunstall  re 
peated. 

"I  —  why  have  you  come  here,  Morgan 
Tunstall  ?  "  she  retorted,  with  a  boldness  that 
was  a  little  overdone. 

"  You  are  wasting  time.  You  might  as  well 
answer  at  once.  I  intend  to  know  what  you 
are  up  to  here." 

"  No,  I  am  not  wasting  time."  She  even 
dared  a  sneering  little  smile.  "  If  you 
had  answered  my  question  honestly,  you 
would  have  answered  the  one  you  asked 
me." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  impatiently. 

"  Oh !  simply  —  but  I  don't  know  that  I  am 
accountable  to  you  or  anybody  else." 

"Why  are  you  here?  I  shall  not  ask  you 
again." 

His  face  hardened  into  a  cast  which  she  had 
seen  once  before  and  which  struck  chill  to 
her  heart.  Her  hand  went  involuntarily  to  her 
breast  as  she  quickly  replied,  still  braving  it 
out: 

"  I  am  here,  Morgan  Tunstall,  for  the  same 


260  The  Opponents 

reason  that  you  are  here  —  to  be  near  Mar 
garet  Helm." 

Tunstall  leaned  suddenly  toward  her,  fury 
distorting  his  countenance,  but  instantly  drew 
back  in  horror. 

"  Margaret  Helm  !  "  he  cried.  "  Then,  by 
God,  you  shall  leave  here  at  once !  " 

There  was  no  more  bravado  in  Mrs.  Knowles 
now.  She  went  to  pieces  as  at  one  blow. 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  pleaded.  "Not  that! 
Have  you  not  done  enough  to  me  already?  I 
will  not  go !  I  will  not !  You  may  murder 
me,  but  unless  you  do  I  will  stay  here  as  long 
as  I  please.  Is  n't  there  a  spark  of  manliness 
in  you  somewhere?  Margaret  is  the  only 
being  in  the  world  I  care  for,  and  —  and  —  oh, 
I  do  not  see  her  much — just  a  few  minutes,  a 
few  words  with  her  a  day,  sometimes  in  two 
or  three  days.  You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall 
ever  tell  her  anything —  indeed,  indeed,  I  have 
not — I  could  not!  Nothing  could  force  me 
to  tell  her!" 

"Tell  her?"  Tunstall  exclaimed  in  harsh 
disgust.  "  She  knows  already.  I  have  told 
her  everything  myself.  Can't  even  you  under 
stand  that  you  are  not  to  see  her  any  more  — 
that  I  shall  not  allow  it?" 


The  Light  that  Blasts         261 

There  was  no  fear  in  Mrs.  Knowles  now. 
She  took  a  swift  step  toward  Tunstall  with 
flashing  eyes  and  quivering  voice. 

"  You  have  told  her !  You  have  dared  to 
tell  her  everything  —  about  me  —  about  the 
child  ?  You  have  told  her  that  she  —  that  my 
daughter  —  ?  " 

Tunstall  looked  into  the  waiting,  questioning 
face  blankly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about," 
he  answered  curtly.  "  I  did  not  know  you  had 
a  daughter." 

Her  hands  covered  her  cheeks  and  eyes. 
She  laughed  a  little,  hysterically.  Then  she 
sank  in  a  huddle  upon  the  boulder  on  which 
she  had  been  sitting  when  Tunstall  found  her, 
and  bowing  her  head  on  her  knees,  cried  like  a 
heart-broken  child. 

Tunstall,  mystified,  contemptuous,  self-con 
temptuous,  and  impatient  of  the  whole  situa 
tion,  waited  in  silence. 

Mrs.  Knowles'  paroxysm  passed  quickly. 
She  flung  up  her  head  and  faced  Tunstall 
again,  indignantly  but  tearlessly. 

"  You  did  not  know  that  I  had  a  daughter !  " 
she  said  with  cutting  intonation.  "  You  who 
took  it  on  yourself  to  prescribe  my  life  —  how 


262  The  Opponents 

and  where  it  should  be  spent!  Where  were 
your  spies?  They  didn't  earn  their  hire  if 
they  didn't  tell  you  of  my  baby — of  how  her 
father  slipped  her  from  my  side  and  sent  her 
away  to  Virginia  that  she  might  grow  up  with 
another  name,  in  ignorance  of  her  own  mother ; 
of  how  during  all  the  years  of  her  childhood 
and  girlhood  I  never  saw  her,  never  even 
heard  of  her  except  in  an  indirect  way.  And 
yet  now  that  he  is  dead  and  I  am  free  to  go 
where  I  please,  and  I  come  here,  not  to  breathe 
a  word  of  the  secret  to  Margaret  —  nothing 
could  make  me  do  that  —  but  just  to  be  where 
she  is  and  talk  to  her  sometimes,  and  maybe 
get  her  to  talk  to  me  sometimes,  about  the  — 
the  things  that  any  mother  has  a  right  to  know, 
you  would  even  forbid  me  that.  But  I  tell  you 
now  you  can't  intimidate  me  any  longer. 
You  may  do  what  you  choose,  but  you  can't 
drive  me  away  from  here.  Only  Margaret 
Helm  herself  can  prevent  me  seeing  her." 

Tunstall,  observing  the  woman  closely,  began 
to  question  her  sanity. 

"  This  sort  of  raving  is  altogether  pointless," 
he  answered  coldly.  "  I  was  not  aware  that 
you  had  a  daughter,  but  because  you  have, 
and  she  has  not  been  allowed  to  know  you,  is 


The  Light  that  Blasts         263 

no  reason  why  you  should  impose  yourself  on 
Miss  Helm.  It  is  not  worth  while  bandying 
words  about  it,  but  I  shall  not  permit  you  to 
annoy  Miss  Helm  any  more." 

Mrs.  Knowles  slowly  rose  and  confronted 
Tunstall  with  white  lips. 

"  You  find  it  hard  to  realize,"  she  said  in 
low,  bitter  challenge,  "  that  I  shall  no  longer 
look  to  you  for  permission,  don't  you  ?  And 
you  find  it  hard  to  reconcile  yourself  to  any 
acquaintance  between  me  and  the  girl  you  are 
in  love  with,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Stop  !     No  more  of  that !  " 

Tunstall  did  not  move,  but  he  gave  his  order 
in  a  voice  which  Mrs.  Knowles  once  would 
have  instantly  heeded. 

"What  do  you  know,"  she  went  on,  without 
faltering,  "of  this  girl  you  are  in  love  with? 
She  is  too  good  for  you  or  any  other  man  — 
you  seem  to  understand  that  —  and  you  are 
horrified  at  the  thought  of  my  even  seeing  her 
or  speaking  to  her.  How  are  you  going  to 
comfort  yourself  when  I  tell  you  the  truth, 
which  you  can  easily  verify  for  yourself,  that 
Margaret  Helm — that  you,  you,  Morgan  Tun 
stall,  are  in  love  with,  of  all  women  in  the 
world,  Margaret  Helm,  my  daught — " 


264  The  Opponents 

With  a  guttural  snarl  muffled  in  his  throat 
Tunstall  leaped  as  if  to  choke  Mrs.  Knowles, 
but  her  quick  cry  of  terror  or  his  own  timely 
impulse  stayed  his  outstretched  arm,  and  he 
recoiled  from  her  without  touching  her,  rub 
bing  his  arrested  hand  again  and  again  in  a 
dazed  way  on  his  coat-sleeve,  and  muttering 
over  and  over,  as  he  turned  his  back  on  her 
and  groped  his  way  up  to  the  road : 

"  She  lies,  Lord  God  !    She  lies,  Lord  God  !  " 


XXI 

LEVEL  WITH  THE  EARTH 

HE  stumbled  on  deep  into  the  forest,  follow 
ing  the  flow  of  the  brook  more  by  its  sound 
than  by  any  guidance  of  his  eyes,  which 
stared  blankly  before  him.  Of  cognition, 
thought,  reason  there  was  in  him  no  consist 
ent  train.  He  was  dominated  by  the  murmur 
of  the  brook,  swelling,  receding;  laughing, 
moaning;  grieving,  mocking;  demoniacally 
reminiscent,  desolately  prophetic.  It  was  the 
murmur  of  his  own  chaotic  brain. 

After  nearly  an  hour's  purposeless  tracking 
of  the  stream,  as  he  stopped  before  a  cliff 
against  whose  base  the  brook  impotently  beat 
and  petulantly  doubled,  he  was  still  absently 
rubbing  against  his  coat-sleeve  the  hand  that 
had  almost  clutched  Mrs.  Knowles'  throat. 

He  looked  about  him  with  intelligence  for 
the  first  time.  Blocking  the  course  he  had 
been  following,  the  cliff  towered  over  him,  its 
seamed  sides  patched  with  mats  of  vines  and 


266  The  Opponents 

gripped  by  the  desperate  roots  of  stunted 
trees.  Away  from  the  cliff  stretched  the  thick 
woods  through  which  the  brook  had  cut  its 
course,  and  at  his  feet  shot  up  the  straight 
trunk  of  a  pine.  Overhead  in  its  branches, 
softer  yet  more  distinct  than  the  brawl  of  the 
water,  was  the  song  of  the  forest.  Tunstall,  as 
one  awakening  from  sleep,  drew  in  a  long 
breath  of  the  resinous  fragrance,  and  lying 
down  on  the  carpet  of  pine-needles,  stretched 
prone  upon  his  face. 

Level  with  the  earth  —  his  once  fierce  pas 
sions,  his  strong  will,  his  sustaining  belliger 
ence,  his  grasp  of  power,  his  daring  new 
desires  and  hopes.  It  was  a  moment  of  utter, 
humble  prostration  of  a  man  who  had  always 
been  self-sufficient;  and  he  who  had  trampled 
on  the  world  when  it  was  in  his  way  knew  no 
rebellion  now  as  he  felt  that  his  place  was,  as 
here,  on  the  ground,  beneath  the  world's  feet. 

He  lay  there  minutes,  hours,  motionless. 
Gradually  the  tumult  of  his  brain  subsided,  and 
he  began  to  consider,  with  some  degree  of 
calmness,  the  revelation  made  to  him  by  Mrs. 
Knowles  and  its  full  significance  to  himself. 
Margaret  Helm  the  daughter  of  Grace  Knowles ! 
Margaret  Helm,  the  one  woman  who  meant  his 


Level  with  the  Earth          267 

self-redemption,  his  restoration  to  faith,  love, 
life,  the  child  of  the  one  woman  who  had  shut 
him  out  from  all  these,  of  the  one  woman  on 
whom  he  had  worked  the  extremity  of  his 
vengeance !  Could  the  fleering  tyranny  of 
Destiny,  Chance,  of  Law,  of  God  —  of  what 
ever  the  power  that  directs  or  neglects  the 
fortunes  of  men  —  be  more  grimly  manifested 
than  in  his  doom  to  find  that  the  possibility  of 
all  that  he  had  missed,  all  that  was  worth 
living  for,  was  through  the  love  of  one  who 
owed  her  very  existence  to  the  woman  who 
had  done  most  to  destroy  him  and  whom 
in  turn  he  had  done  most  to  destroy?  Re 
volt  as  he  might  at  the  thought  that  so 
lovely  a  flower  as  Margaret  Helm  had  sprung 
from  such  muck,  the  aspect  of  Mrs.  Knowles' 
disclosure  which  now  most  crushed  Tunstall 
was  that  which  bore  on  himself  rather  than 
on  Margaret.  She  did  not  know,  she  must 
never  know  ;  but  he  knew  now,  and  his  knowl 
edge  was  a  barrier  between  them  as  insuper 
able  as  infinity  and  as  lasting  as  eternity.  Of 
all  created  beings,  aside  from  Mrs.  Knowles 
herself,  Margaret  Helm  was  the  one  whom  he 
could  not  now  ask  to  accept  his  love.  The 
nobler,  the  worthier  of  the  highest  love  she 


268  The  Opponents 

might   be,  the   wider  was   he  sundered   from 
her. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Tunstall  to  doubt  the 
revelation  which  Mrs.  Knowles  had  made.  The 
very  improbability  of  the  thing  —  almost  its 
inconceivability  except  in  truth  —  was  in  itself 
instantaneous  conviction.  As  an  invention  it 
would  have  been  so  preposterous,  so  readily 
disproved,  that  it  would  never  have  been 
offered  or  even  harbored.  Mrs.  Knowles,  had 
she  been  of  weaker  intellect  than  she  was,  could 
not  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  fabricate  such  a 
story.  Sometime,  Tunstall  vaguely  conceded 
himself,  he  might  go  to  the  Virginia  town  that 
was  Margaret  Helm's  home  and  make  a  quiet 
investigation  of  the  facts  on  his  own  account; 
though  there  was  not  even  a  vague  concession 
that  such  an  investigation  was  necessary.  But 
this  point  was  now  of  no  interest,  however  re 
mote.  He  did  not  question  Mrs.  Knowles' 
truthfulness  in  this  instance,  but  if  he  had  done 
so  the  ultimate  effect  on  himself  and  on  his 
future  could  have  been  little  different.  Whether 
or  not  Margaret  Helm  was  Mrs.  Knowles' 
daughter,  the  now  recognized  possibility  that 
he  might  have  met  and  loved  her  daughter 
snuffed  out  the  light  of  the  new  world  to  which 


Level  with  the  Earth  269 

he  had  set  his  face  with  the  coming  of  Mar 
garet.  And  the  purer,  the  juster,  the  more 
charitable,  the  more  lovable  —  the  more  like 
Margaret  —  such  a  daughter  might  be,  the 
blacker  the  darkness  in  which  he  must  be  left. 
Assuming,  for  idle  assumption's  sake,  that  Mar 
garet  might  not  be  Mrs.  Knowles'  daughter, 
yet  in  her  own  innocent  girlhood  she  repre 
sented,  incarnated,  all  that  he  had  irreparably 
wronged  in  Mrs.  Knowles'  daughter,  —  all  that 
must  forever  exclude  him  from  the  gladly, 
proudly  loving  heart  of  such  girlhood. 

Turning  these  things  over  fitfully  in  his  still 
reeling  mind,  groping  feebly  on  the  bottom, 
along  the  walls,  of  the  abyss  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  sure,  in  his  inward  shadows,  of  his 
mental  results  without  perception  of  any  erratic 
indefiniteness  and  incompleteness  of  his  mental 
methods  whose  force  a  different  and  grosser 
mind  might  have  felt,  Tunstall's  efforts  at  rea 
soning  and  his  conclusions  have  not  been  in 
adequately  indicated  here,  however  uneven 
may  seem  their  logic  or  their  lucidity  when 
presented  to  the  different  mind  in  the  uncom 
promising  fixity  of  the  printed  page. 

When  finally  he  turned  his  stiffened  body 
and  slowly  lifted  himself  to  his  feet,  night  had 


270  The  Opponents 

settled  over  the  forest.  The  invigorating  cool 
ness  of  the  high  altitude  was  in  the  air.  The 
cliff  was  a  bank  of  dense  gloom.  The  thick 
foliage  seemed  to  gather  and  imprison,  as 
under  a  vast  dome,  the  darkness,  intensified  by 
a  narrow  rift  here  and  there  through  which  the 
sky  was  visible.  Above  Tunstall  the  great 
pine,  every  breath  of  its  sighing  under-song 
now  hushed,  was  as  stirless  as  if  hewn  from 
the  rock  of  the  cliff,  loomed  high  beyond  the 
shades  of  the  forest  and  blossomed  apparently 
with  white,  still  mountain  stars. 

Tunstall  peered  inquisitively  around  him. 
He  did  not  know  where  he  was,  how  far  away 
or  in  what  direction  was  the  hotel.  He  remem 
bered  that  he  had  come  here  a  long  time  ago, 
when  it  was  daylight,  though  he  had  noted  no 
more  of  his  way  or  its  surroundings  than  if  it  had 
been  as  dark  as  now.  The  sound  of  the  brook 
still  beat  upon  him  —  the  one  thing  that  was 
familiar ;  that  had  not  changed ;  that  linked  the 
night  with  the  morning,  so  long  passed ;  that 
seemed  to  have  gone  on  since  he  could  not 
remember,  that  seemed  must  go  on  till  he 
could  not  forget  He  recalled  that  he  had 
followed  that  sound  all  through  the  woods  that 
day ;  he  knew  that  wherever  the  hotel  was,  it 


Level  with  the  Earth  271 

was  toward  the  head  of  this  brook,  and  that 
therefore  the  stream  that  had  led  him  here 
would  guide  him  back. 

He  set  forth  up  its  course.  For  the  first 
time  in  many  hours  he  now  had  some  definite 
object  in  view :  he  was  walking  with  some  pur 
pose,  making  his  way  to  some  place.  It  was  a 
poor  enough  object  —  merely  to  get  back  to 
the  hotel  which  he  now  loathed  —  but  it  was 
an  object,  and  in  a  degree  relaxed  the  subjec 
tive  strain  that  had  been  upon  him.  Beating  in 
the  darkness  through  the  briars  and  underbrush 
toward  that  object,  was  as  effective  to  reawaken 
his  normal  senses  as  was  the  object  itself. 

Soon  —  and  sooner  than  he  had  thought 
possible,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
traversed  many  leagues  in  descending  the  stream 
that  day  —  he  reached  the  road  which,  as  the 
forest  began  to  grow  thinner,  he  recognized  as 
the  road  he  had  turned  into  that  morning  after 
descending  the  mountain  bridle-path.  He  knew 
that  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  beyond  that 
the  hotel,  were  near  now.  A  little  further  along 
he  passed  the  spot  where  he  had  seen  Grace 
Knowles.  He  felt  a  chill  sensation  as  if  his 
body  were  contracting  and  shrinking  into 
himself.  Involuntarily  his  chin  fell  to  his 


272  The  Opponents 

sunken  chest,  and  he  automatically  drew  his 
coat  closer  about  him.  It  was  a  place  of  the 
dead  and  damned.  His  own  sudden  death, 
and  his  dead  self  yet  down  there,  were  vividly 
real  things. 

Emerging  from  the  woods  a  few  minutes 
later,  the  lights  of  the  hotel  shining  across 
to  him  smote  him  with  a  shock  of  repellent 
inapposition.  It  was  as  if  he  were  suddenly 
thrown  back  on  a  world  he  had  left  but  a  mo 
ment  before,  though  he  had  lived  through 
centuries  since  he  left  it.  Black  as  was  the 
doom  back  there  in  the  forest,  yet  he  had  less 
heart  for  the  world  of  those  hotel  lights,  and  he 
paused  for  a  second  as  if  actually  to  retrace  his 
steps.  But  it  was  only  for  a  second,  and  walk 
ing  on  toward  the  hotel,  he  came  to  the  hill 
which  he  had  ascended  that  morning  with  Mar 
garet  Helm.  He  stopped  again,  with  a  re 
pressed  groan.  All  the  beauty  of  the  ascent, 
the  splendor  of  the  summit,  the  desolation  of 
the  descent  rushed  upon  him  in  a  flood.  Then 
again  came  the  vision  from  the  mountain,  as  he 
had  looked  down  on  the  hill  and  discovered 
Margaret's  fan.  A  returning  wave  of  the  old 
tenderness  that  had  hurried  him  down  the 
mountain-side  to  secure  the  fan  swept  over 


Level  with  the  Earth  273 

him,  with  a  momentary  pang  that  he  had  neg 
lected,  forgotten  it  so  long  in  his  own  self- 
concern. 

With  quickening  steps  he  climbed  the  knoll, 
curious,  even  anxious,  to  see  whether  the  fan 
were  still  there.  He  found  it  lying  on  the  seat 
where  Margaret  had  left  it,  and  where  he  had 
seen  it  from  the  shelf  of  the  mountain  later. 
He  dropped  into  the  seat,  and  taking  up  the 
little  fan  contemplated  it  reflectively.  Then 
bowing  his  face  into  his  hands,  the  fan  pressed 
against  his  cheek,  his  elbows  supported  by  his 
knees,  he  lived  over  the  drama  of  the  morning 
that  had  been  enacted  on  this  spot,  recalling 
every  word  of  Margaret's,  every  intonation, 
every  change  of  the  sensitive  face.  And  it  was 
only  that  morning  that  all  this  had  happened 
—  only  that  morning,  ages  and  ages  ago,  in 
another  world,  another  life. 

He  sat  up  after  a  while,  and  gently  placing 
the  fan  in  his  pocket,  looked  across  to  where 
the  dim  ridge  of  the  mountains  melted  into  the 
star-sprinkled  sky.  Nearer,  below  him,  his 
eyes  fell  to  the  lights  of  the  hotel,  and  he 
caught  on  the  fitful  breeze  of  the  night  an 
occasional  wave  of  a  waltz  from  the  ball-room, 

or  a  faint  ripple  of  laughter  from  the  galleries. 
18 


274  The  Opponents 

In  another  hour  the  music  had  ceased,  the 
ball-room  was  dark,  and  other  lights  twinkled 
in  the  upper  story;  these,  too,  gradually 
died  away,  and  when  Tunstall  finally  rose 
and  began  the  descent  of  the  hill,  the  building 
was  sleeping  in  the  hush  and  shadow  of  the 
mountains. 

As  he  walked  toward  it  and  its  outlines 
took  form  before  him,  he  looked  up  to  the  un- 
lighted  windows,  and  he  found  himself  won 
dering,  as  he  had  wondered  on  his  arrival  the 
night  before,  which  of  those  windows  were 
Margaret  Helm's.  He  pulled  his  hat  over  his 
eyes,  with  an  aching  stricture  in  his  throat. 
He  was  never  to  know,  the  thought  crushed  in 
on  him  —  he  was  never  to  know,  or  to  concern 
himself  to  know,  anything  more  about  Marga 
ret  Helm.  All  that,  with  everything  else,  was 
in  the  past  now. 

He  made  his  way  to  his  room  and  without 
undressing  threw  himself  across  the  bed.  He 
did  not  sleep,  and  as  he  lay  there  in  the  still 
ness  and  under  the  same  roof  that  covered 
Margaret,  the  feeling  of  her  hopeless  nearness 
was  so  poignant  that  he  got  up  with  the  first 
flush  of  dawn  and  went  down  to  the  hotel 
office. 


Level  with  the  Earth          275 

"You  have  some  saddle-horses  here,  have 
you  not?"  he  asked  the  clerk. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  " 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  best  of  them." 

"  Yes,  sir.     You  are  out  early." 

Horses  were  shown  him  and  he  made  a 
selection. 

"  How  much  do  you  want  for  this  one?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Do  you  mean  by  the  hour?" 

"  I  mean  I  wish  to  buy  him." 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't  say,  sir !  "  the  surprised 
clerk  stared.  "  I  'd  have  to  see  the  manager." 

"  Then  see  him  at  once,  please." 

The  manager  was  seen,  the  sale  was  made, 
and  Tunstall,  having  scribbled  a  conventional 
line  of  leave-taking  on  his  card  for  the  ladies, 
was  in  the  saddle,  with  the  first  conscious 
breath  of  the  bracing  morning  air  in  his  long 
constricted  lungs.  In  his  youth  a  horseback 
ride  had  always  been  his  resort  in  time  of 
trouble,  and  the  possibility  of  returning  to 
Kentucky  on  a  good  horse  over  the  mountain 
roads,  instead  of  in  the  stuffy  railroad  train,  no 
sooner  suggested  itself  ,to  him  than  he  seized  it 
as  a  reality. 

With  one  fleeting  glance  at  the  still  sleeping 


276  The  Opponents 

windows  of  the  hotel,  he  turned  his  face  to  the 
silvering  crest  of  the  range  and  galloped  away. 
The  vigorous  swing  of  the  horse  into  the 
majestic  solitude  of  the  morning  put  new 
strength  into  Tunstall's  own  body  and  spirit, 
and  not  once  did  he  look  back. 


XXII 

THE  MORNING  OF  THE  CONVENTION 

IT  was  the  morning  of  the  district  convention. 
Sidney  Garrard,  in  his  little  room  in  the  crowded 
Bracebury  hotel,  was  awakened  at  5.30,  in 
accordance  with  his  instructions  left  with  the 
clerk  the  night  before.  The  boy  pounded 
noisily  at  the  door  before  Garrard  answered, 
for  it  had  been  3  o'clock  when  the  conference 
of  his  friends  in  the  Garrard  headquarters  on 
the  first  floor  of  the  hotel  had  broken  up  and 
he  had  climbed  wearily  to  his  bedroom. 

He  did  not  get  up  at  once,  but  lay  staring  at 
the  slit  of  a  window,  against  which  a  foggy 
rain  was  beating.  Beyond  that  the  gray  gloom 
of  the  morning  was  impenetrable,  except  for  a 
few  feet,  within  which  the  dripping  branches  of 
a  linden  tree  swayed  and  thrashed  against  the 
weatherboarding  of  the  hotel.  The  rain  rat 
tled  in  gusts  on  the  shingle  roof,  the  water 
gushed  and  thumped  in  the  tin  gutters,  and 
near  Garrard's  bed  there  was  a  tap,  tap  on  the 


278  The  Opponents 

bare  floor  as  the  slow  drops  fell  from  a  wet 
spot  in  the  plastered  ceiling.  It  was  not  a 
cheerful  beginning  of  the  day  to  which  Garrard 
had  looked  forward  so  long  and  whose  out 
come,  which  he  had  exerted  himself  so  strenu 
ously  to  control,  meant  so  much  for  him. 

Nor  was  there  any  inward  source  of  cheer  in 
Garrard,  now  that  he  had  made  his  fight  and 
awaited  the  result.  He  lay  there,  in  the  reac 
tion  which  comes  after  one's  utmost  effort  has 
been  put  forth  without  having  attained  the 
result  whose  possibility  had  been  his  stimulus. 
Moreover,  he  was  in  the  semi-torpor  that  some 
times  follows  an  untimely  awakening  from  sleep 
and  submerges  one  in  a  depressing  revulsion 
from  the  very  thought  of  resuming  the  activity 
and  struggle  of  the  waking  hours  which  have 
worn  most  on  mind  and  body.  For  the  time 
Garrard,  free  as  he  usually  was  from  morbid 
ness,  felt  the  oppression  of  the  day  and  of 
defeat.  He  did  not  care  to  get  up.  It  did 
not  seem  that  he  should  ever  care.  There  is 
something  to  keep  a  man  going  when  he  is 
making  his  fight,  but  when  it  is  made  and  lost 
a  dry  bed  on  a  wet  morning  is  about  as  good 
as  is  left  for  him. 

But  Garrard's  unfavorable  political  prospect, 


The  Morning  of  the  Convention  279 

bad  as  that  seemed,  was  not  what  oppressed 
him  most  at  the  moment.  It  was  his  convic 
tion  that  the  distance  between  Margaret  Helm 
and  himself,  if  not  widening,  at  least  was  not 
lessening.  It  was  true  he  felt  that  she  re 
spected  him  more  and  liked  him  better  than 
she  had  done  during  the  first  summer  of  their 
acquaintance,  and  it  was  true  that  since  then, 
until  this  year,  he  had  seen  nothing  of  her; 
but  he  had  seen  enough  recently  to  feel  sure 
that  she  did  not  yet  wish  to  listen  to  what  he 
most  wished  to  say  to  her.  Once,  indeed,  he 
had  been  on  the  verge  of  saying  it  again,  just 
before  she  left  for  the  West  Virginia  mountains, 
and  she  had  so  delicately  yet  so  positively  in 
dicated  to  him  that  he  would  make  a  mistake 
if  he  did  speak  that  he  had  immediately  de 
sisted.  While  this  had  keenly  disappointed 
him,  it  had  not  in  itself  discouraged  him,  nor 
would  he  have  been  so  near  despondency  this 
morning  if  he  had  not  felt  that  to  win  he  must 
overcome  an  opponent  more  formidable  than 
Margaret  herself.  If  his  contestant  had  been 
any  man  he  knew  except  Morgan  Tunstall, 
Garrard  would  have  been  more  hopeful.  In  a 
vague  sense  he  had  somehow  conceived  that 
Tunstall  was  his  dangerous  rival  as  long  ago 


280  The  Opponents 

as  the  day  when  Margaret  had  first  seen  the 
portrait  at  Tunstall  Paddocks,  and  since  Tun- 
stall's  actual  appearance  on  the  field,  handi 
capped  though  he  might  be  by  his  unhappy 
divorce,  Garrard,  while  as  determined  and 
aggressive  in  love  as  he  was  in  politics,  could 
not  help  feeling  at  a  distinct  disadvantage  in 
opposing  him.  From  Garrard's  boyhood  Tun- 
stall  had  always  made  on  him  an  impression 
of  power  that  at  first  had  almost  the  effect  of 
awe,  and  that  was  not  lacking  later  when  he 
found  that  it  was  Tunstall  whom  he  must  meet 
as  his  chief  antagonist  in  the  two  battles  that 
he  thought  most  worth  winning. 

What  other  man  but  Tunstall,  for  instance, 
could  have  made  the  political  campaign  that 
he  had  made  this  summer,  and  yet  have  spent 
most  of  his  time  with  Margaret  Helm?  Who 
but  Tunstall,  with  the  result  of  that  campaign 
so  close  as  it  was  known  to  be,  would  have  run 
off  to  the  mountains  and  loafed  at  a  watering- 
place  the  last  days  preceding  the  convention 
without  losing,  but  actually  gaining,  ground  in 
his  political  race  meantime?  Garrard  was  well 
aware  that  while  he  was  doing  some  of  his 
hardest  campaign  work  these  last  days,  Tun 
stall  had  gone  to  Margaret.  Tunstall  himself 


The  Morning  of  the  Convention   281 

before  leaving  had  told  Garrard  of  his  destina 
tion,  and  had  laughingly  advised  him  that  he  had 
"  better  come  along."  Here  it  was  the  morning 
of  the  convention,  and  Tunstall,  to  the  conster 
nation  of  some  of  his  supporters,  had  not  even 
appeared  at  Bracebury.  But  Garrard  had  built 
no  hopes  on  that  fact:  he  knew  Tunstall  too 
well,  and  he  knew  too  well  Tunstall's  strength 
in  the  convention. 

Tunstall  had  undoubtedly  gained  materially 
since  the  Luttroll  County  Convention.  The 
proceedings  of  that  body,  as  reported  by  the 
correspondent  of  the  Globe,  had  resulted  in  an 
uninstructed  delegation  to  the  district  conven 
tion  at  Bracebury,  both  Tunstall  and  Garrard 
being  well  represented  by  friends  among  the 
delegates.  So  close  was  the  race  in  the  rest 
of  the  congressional  district  that  it  was  confi 
dently  assumed  by  the  Tunstall  and  Garrard 
workers  alike  that  the  vote  of  the  Luttroll 
County  delegation  in  the  district  convention 
would  either  effect  a  nomination  or  produce  a 
dead-lock.  Garrard  and  his  friends  had  done 
what  they  could  in  the  interval  between  the 
two  conventions  to  increase  his  strength  in  the 
Luttroll  delegation,  and  they  believed,  up  to 
the  night  preceding  the  district  convention, 


282  The  Opponents 

that  they  had  won  enough  of  the  undecided 
delegates  to  give  Garrard  a  majority  of  the 
delegation.  They  were  dumbfounded,  there 
fore,  when,  on  the  night  before  the  district  con 
vention  was  to  assemble,  the  various  county 
delegations  holding  separate  meetings  for  the 
purpose  of  organizing  and  agreeing  on  their 
committeemen,  the  Luttroll  delegation  was 
controlled  on  every  vote  by  the  Tunstall  men, 
who  not  only  dictated  its  organization,  but 
declared  that  its  vote  should  be  cast  as  a 
unit  on  all  questions  in  the  convention.  This 
programme,  if  carried  out,  would  stifle  every 
Garrard  man  on  the  delegation  and  would  in 
effect  throw  all  the  votes  of  the  delegation  for 
Tunstall  and  insure  his  nomination.  It  was  an 
old  trick,  and  one  that  had  been  successfully 
played  many  a  time  before  by  politicians  less 
shrewd  than  Tunstall.  Garrard  and  his  lieu 
tenants  knew,  and  admitted  among  themselves, 
that  unless  this  scheme  could  be  frustrated 
they  were  beaten.  With  every  member  of  the 
Luttroll  delegation  voting  for  his  choice  in  the 
convention,  there  was  a  bare  possibility  that 
Tunstall  in  the  end  might  not  hold  a  decisive 
number  of  Poindexter's  following  and  that 
Garrard  might  win;  with  the  delegation  vot- 


The  Morning  of  the  Convention   283 

ing  as  a  unit  for  Tunstall,  there  was  no  chance 
at  all  for  Garrard.  At  the  conference  of  the 
Garrard  men  immediately  after  the  action  of 
the  Luttroll  delegation  there  was  but  one 
opinion  as  to  the  course  that  was  left  them. 
They  must  make  their  fight  in  the  convention 
against  the  "  unit  rule."  Their  only  hope  lay 
in  having  the  convention  refuse  to  accept 
Luttroll  County's  vote  as  a  unit,  but  insist 
that  the  delegation  be  polled  and  the  votes 
be  recorded  as  cast  by  the  individual  dele 
gates.  It  was  a  desperate  hope,  they  realized, 
for  even  if  they  should  succeed  in  having 
the  vote  of  Luttroll  County  excluded  on  the 
question  of  recognizing  or  rejecting  the  unit 
rule,  the  probability  of  securing  its  rejection 
by  a  majority  of  the  other  delegates  was  very 
slight.  It  was  clearly  the  Tunstall  plan  to 
make  sure  of  the  nomination  by  the  enforce 
ment  of  the  unit  rule,  and  if  the  convention 
should  determine  against  its  enforcement  it 
would  only  be  because  Tunstall  could  not  con 
trol  his  delegates  and  those  of  Poindexter  on 
that  question.  But  Garrard's  friends  admitted 
that  there  was  scant  encouragement  in  count 
ing  on  Tunstall's  inability  to  do  that.  Tunstall 
had  never  been  the  man  to  fail  in  such  a  coup 


284  The  Opponents 

as  this.  It  belonged  essentially  to  the  field  of 
practical  politics  of  which  he  was  a  master. 

It  was  true  that  Tunstall  had  not  yet  ap 
peared  at  Bracebury.  That  was  looked  on  in 
Garrard's  camp  as  singular,  though  not  signifi 
cant  of  any  fatal  disadvantage  to  Tunstall's  side. 
Tunstall  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  singular 
things  in  a  political  fight,  and  he  had  never 
been  known  to  lose  by  such  tactics.  Never 
theless  it  was  understood  at  Garrard's  head 
quarters  that  some  of  Tunstall's  managers 
were  not  as  unconcerned  over  his  absence  as 
they  professed  to  be ;  that  Poindexter  in  par 
ticular  was  secretly  fuming  about  it ;  and  that 
Dunk  Peabody,  having  taken  a  few  drinks  to 
allay  his  agitation  on  the  subject,  had  become 
so  boisterously  agitated  that  some  of  the  diplo 
matic  Tunstall  workers  had  to  get  him  "  dead 
drunk  "  in  order  to  quiet  him. 

That  was  the  situation  as  developed  by  the 
preceding  night,  and  as  it  recurred  to  Garrard 
looking  out  from  his  room  on  the  rainy  morn 
ing  of  the  district  convention. 

He  lay  there  until  he  heard  a  clock  strike 
seven,  and  Hugh  Letcher,  pushing  open  the 
door  a  few  minutes  later,  found  him  still  in 
bed. 


The  Morning  of  the  Convention   285 

"  What !  not  even  up  yet  ?  "  he  said  in  sur 
prise.  "  I  Ve  been  expecting  you  downstairs 
for  an  hour.  It's  the  late  bird  that  catches 
last  year's  nest." 

"  Oh,  well,  old  man,"  Garrard  replied  slug 
gishly,  rising  to  a  seat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
"  I  did  n't  see  any  reason  to  hurry.  The  game's 
up,  and  I  'm  tired  of  the  whole  thing." 

"  What's  the  rub?  It  always  did  upset  you 
to  lose  much  sleep.  It 's  not  like  you  not  to 
put  in  your  hardest  licks  when  the  other  fellow 
seems  surest  of  licking  you." 

"I  need  a  good  cold  bath,  Hugh,"  Garrard 
answered,  a  little  apologetically,  as  he  began  to 
dress,  "  or  a  good  kicking.  Don't  be  so  easy 
with  me ;  try  a  kick  or  two.  I  '11  be  down  in 
a  minute  and  do  what 's  to  be  done.  Not  much, 
is  it?" 

"  I  ran  across  a  fellow  this  morning  you 
might  do  something  with.  His  name  is  Hull 
—  Dorsey  Hull  —  one  of  Poindexter's  men. 
He  says  he  can't  vote  for  you,  but  that  it  does 
look  like  you  ought  to  have  a  square  deal  and 
be  allowed  your  votes  in  the  Luttroll  delega 
tion.  I  believe  if  you  will  have  a  talk  with  him 
you  can  get  him  to  vote  against  the  unit  rule." 

"All  right.    Hull,  did  you  say  his  name  was  ?  " 


286  The  Opponents 

"  Yes.  Says  he  remembers  you  well,  and  has 
always  had  a  sort  of  pity  for  you  ever  since  he 
cut  you  out  with  Bessie  Floyd." 

"  Bessie  Floyd,"  Garrard  smiled  musingly. 
"  Yes,  I  did  know  a  girl  once  named  Bessie 
Floyd.  Let  me  see:  it  was  the  summer  I 
drove  that  Dictator  filly.  You  remember  her, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"Miss  Floyd?" 

"  That  filly.  She  was  a  good  one.  It  wasn't 
anything  to  step  over  into  Magowan  County 
behind  her.  Bessie  Floyd  lived  in  Magowan, 
you  know.  Hull  —  Hull  —  yes,  I  believe  there 
was  a  chap  of  that  name  hanging  around  Bessie 
that  summer.  So  he  got  her,  did  he  ?  Well,  I  '11 
go  and  inquire  about  her  and  that  other  little 
matter.  Anything  turned  up  this  morning?  " 

"Tunstall  hasn't.  EvenDriggs  is  beginning 
to  seem  a  little  rattled,  and  Poindexter  does  n't 
look  as  if  he  could  contain  himself  much  lon 
ger.  He  is  clearly  getting  desperate  and  has 
taken  to  dissipating  on  ice-water.  He  ex 
hausted  the  supply  in  the  hotel  office  early. 
And,  oh,  by  the  way,  I  Ve  a  letter  from  Flor 
ence  this  morning.  She  said  that  Tunstall  had 
come  up  there,  but  remained  only  a  day.  What 
do  you  think  now?" 


The  Morning  of  the  Convention   287 

"  Oh,  nothing ;  except  that  Tunstall  will  be 
on  hand  if  he  is  needed,  and  that  he  is  not 
likely  to  be  needed.  He  left  his  machine  in 
such  good  order  that  it  will  do  its  work  with 
out  him.  What  racket  is  that  downstairs,  do 
you  suppose  ?  Hello,  Nix,  what 's  all  that 
noise?"  the  last  question  being  addressed 
to  Bob  Nixon,  who  came  into  the  room  at 
the  moment. 

"  Here !  what  are  you  fellows  loafing  up 
here  for?  "  Nixon  asked.  "  That  noise?  Why, 
don't  you  know?  That  is  Dunk  Peabody  and 
a  few  of  his  fellow  statesmen  celebrating 
the  good  news :  they  Ve  heard  from  Morgan 
Tunstall." 

"What  have  they  heard?"  Hugh  Letcher 
inquired. 

"That  he  has  reached  Yardley  on  horse 
back  and  will  be  here  by  the  two  o'clock  train. 
Dunk  was  at  breakfast  when  the  glad  tidings 
found  him,  and  he  immediately  transferred 
himself  to  the  hotel  office.  He  is  now  stand 
ing  on  the  clerk's  desk,  with  a  napkin  under 
his  chin  and  an  unfurled  table-cloth  in  his 
hand.  That  which  you  hear  downstairs  is 
Dunk  breakfasting  on  plutocrats." 


XXIII 

"THE  OLD   HICKORY   OF  LUTTROLL " 

THE  convention  met  at  ten  o'clock,  and  when 
it  adjourned  for  dinner  two  hours  and  a  half 
later  Sidney  Garrard's  assertion  that  Tunstall's 
machine  would  do  its  work  without  Tunstall's 
presence  had  been  demonstrated.  The  Tun- 
stall-Poindexter  combination  had  held  together 
and  had  carried  every  point  raised. 

The  first  test  of  strength  came  on  the  ques 
tion  of  temporary  organization.  The  vote  was 
close,  but  the  Tunstall  selection  for  Temporary 
Chairman  won.  With  their  power  thus  shown 
and  the  organization  and  administration  of  the 
convention  thus  seized,  Tunstall's  adherents  re 
garded  the  nomination  of  their  man  as  assured, 
while  at  heart  Garrard's  supporters,  though 
still  maintaining  a  bold  front,  conceded  that, 
unless  some  totally  unexpected  development 
should  favor  them,  they  were  beaten.  They 
made  an  obstinate  struggle  against  the  unit 
rule,  but  lost  by  only  two  or  three  less  votes 


"The  Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll"   289 

than  they  lost  the  temporary  chairmanship. 
After  that  they  offered  no  resistance  to  the  op 
position's  motion  to  adjourn  until  two  o'clock. 
They  understood  that  Tunstall's  train  was  due 
at  two  o'clock,  but  they  agreed  with  Garrard 
now  that  Tunstall's  absence  or  presence  would 
not  change  the  final  result.  The  Tunstall  ma 
chine  had  been  shown  to  be  in  perfect  order. 

On  reassembling  in  the  afternoon,  the  Chair 
man's  gavel  rapping  a  few  minutes  after  the 
whistle  of  the  two  o'clock  train  had  resounded 
through  the  hall,  the  business  before  the  con 
vention  was  the  placing  in  nomination  of  the 
various  candidates  for  Congress.  A  call  of  the 
counties  of  the  district  was  begun  alphabetically. 
When  Bascom  County  was  reached,  Hoard,  a 
square-jawed,  big-nosed  young  member  of  the 
delegation,  arose  and  made  the  nominating 
speech  for  Sidney  Garrard  with  such  earnest 
force,  such  a  plain  exposition  of  the  methods 
employed  against  him,  such  a  telling  repudia 
tion  of  the  "  husks  of  Bourbonism  "  on  which 
the  Tunstalls  and  Poindexters  would  nourish 
the  party,  and  such  a  fervid  plea  for  the  cour 
age  and  sturdiness  of  Garrard's  stand  for  a 
living  Democracy  and  for  the  manly  repre 
sentation  of  its  vitality  instead  of  a  crafty  reli- 
19 


290  The  Opponents 

ance  on  its  prejudices  and  spoils,  that  the 
Garrard  delegates  were  aroused  to  an  uproar 
ious  demonstration  of  reddening  faces,  straining 
throats,  and  tossing  banners,  which  continued 
several  minutes.  When  this  finally  subsided 
and  the  call  of  the  counties  was  resumed,  Crox- 
ton  County  furnished  the  next  speaker,  who 
seconded  Garrard's  nomination.  It  was  sec 
onded  again  before  Hardesty,  one  of  "the 
Pocket "  counties,  was  reached  and  "  the  honey- 
lipped  orator  of  old  Hardesty  "  presented  the 
name  of  Leonidas  Cox  Poindexter  to  the  con 
vention,  which  was  received  with  some  honest 
applause  by  the  Pocket  delegations,  joined  in 
rather  perfunctorily  by  the  Tunstall  counties. 

At  last  Luttroll  County  was  called,  and  the 
Tunstall  delegates  had  their  cue.  Luttroll  was 
to  propose  the  name  of  Tunstall,  the  nominat 
ing  speech  having  been  assigned  to  "  the  Old 
Hickory  of  Luttroll,"  Shelby  Letcher.  When 
the  reading  clerk  sang  out  resonantly,  "The 
County  of  Luttroll,"  the  Tunstall  men  on  the 
convention  floor  and  platform  sprang  to  their 
feet  with  the  promptness  of  a  drill  team  and 
began  the  din  for  which  they  had  been  waiting 
their  opportunity.  Yells,  tin  horns,  pounding 
chairs  and  canes,  made  a  clamor  that  was  bar- 


"The  Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll"    291 

baric  and  that  was  maintained  with  a  persist 
ence  betraying  more  method  than  spontaneity. 
Flags  were  drawn  from  many  places  of  con 
cealment  and  waved  overhead ;  sheets  of  canvas 
bearing  Tunstall's  portrait  were  hung  out,  and 
streamers  with  Tunstall  mottoes  and  catch 
words  were  flaunted.  After  a  while  the  stan 
dards  of  the  Tunstall  counties  were  wrenched 
from  their  places  and  borne  aloft,  while  behind 
them  the  Tunstall  delegates  fell  in  line  and, 
still  keeping  up  their  noise,  began  to  march 
and  countermarch  through  the  hall ;  most  con 
spicuous  among  these  standards  being  that  of 
Luttroll  County,  clutched  in  the  frenzied  hands 
of  Dunk  Peabody  as  he  was  carried  around 
the  room  on  the  shoulders  of  some  of  his 
colleagues.  None  of  the  usual  features  of  the 
modern  convention  demonstration  was  omitted. 
The  Garrard  men  remained  in  their  seats 
through  it  all,  some  of  them  resigned,  others 
smiling  patiently,  and  still  others  jeering  good- 
naturedly.  They  knew  that  this  was  a  part  of 
the  programme  which  would  have  to  run  its 
prescribed  course,  and  that  it  would  be  timed 
by  the  watch  until  it  well  exceeded  the  length 
of  the  Garrard  demonstration.  They  also  knew 
that  it  would  not  make  a  vote  for  Tunstall, 


292  The  Opponents 

though  there  was  no  comfort  in  that,  as  they 
knew  at  the  same  time  that  it  was  not  necessary 
to  make  any  more  votes  for  Tunstall. 

Finally,  after  the  hurly-burly  had  been  pro 
tracted  for  thirteen  minutes,  that  greeting 
Garrard's  name  having  lasted  about  five,  even 
the  Tunstall  men  began  to  realize  that,  as  one 
of  them  expressed  it  to  another,  there  was  "  a 
cog  loose  somewhere."  There  were  now  gaps 
in  the  "  enthusiasm,"  as  if  the  enthusiasts  felt 
that  they  had  done  their  part  and  were  dis 
posed  to  subside  in  order  that  the  next  part, 
which  was  not  theirs,  should  be  done.  They 
began  to  look  around  for  Shelby  Letcher,  to 
note  that  he  was  not  in  any  of  the  seats  assigned 
to  the  Luttroll  delegation,  and  that  he  was  not 
to  be  discovered  on  the  platform  or  elsewhere 
in  the  hall.  Even  the  Chairman  now  banged 
the  table  and  turned  to  see  if  the  expected 
speaker  had  yet  reached  the  stage.  Cries  of 
"  Letcher ! "  soon  dominated  the  other  noises  in 
the  building,  and  some  of  the  Garrard  men, 
though  not  understanding  the  hitch,  were  laugh 
ing  outright. 

At  last  there  was  a  sudden,  genuine  cheer 
from  the  Tunstall  followers,  as  the  gaunt  form 
of  Shelby  Letcher  was  seen  to  emerge  from 


"The  Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll"   293 

the  wings  of  the  stage  and  with  awkward  slow 
ness  make  its  way  to  the  table  by  the  Chair 
man's  side. 

Standing  there  until  the  din  was  stilled,  "  the 
Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll "  began  to  speak  in  a 
harsh  but  unstrained  voice  that  carried  every 
syllable  to  all  parts  of  the  auditorium : 

"  Mr.  Chairman  and  Fellow  Democrats,"  he 
said,  "  I  must  inform  you  at  the  outset  that  I 
am  here  to  make  a  very  different  speech  from 
that  which  you  expected  from  me,  and  which 
you  had  a  right  to  expect  from  me.  Just  how 
and  why  I  am  not  to  make  the  speech  I  intended 
to  make  and  am  to  make  the  speech  I  shall  try 
to  make,  I  hardly  know  myself.  It  has  all  come 
about  so  suddenly,  and  I  am  so  far  at  this 
moment  from  fully  grasping  the  entire  situa 
tion  in  all  its  cause  and  effect,  that  I  seriously 
doubt  if  I  should  not  have  acquitted  myself 
with  more  credit  by  remaining  mute  in  my  seat. 
But,  gentlemen,  I  am  a  Democrat  who  never 
shirks  a  duty  to  his  party,  and  in  the  brief  time 
I  have  had  to  ponder  on  that  duty  and  the 
imperfect  light  I  have  had  in  which  to  find  it,  I 
believe  that  it  is  to  the  interest  of  the  Democ 
racy  of  this  district  that  I  should  say  to  you 
what  I  stand  here  now  to  say. 


294  The  Opponents 

"  Gentlemen,  when  I  came  to  this  convention 
this  afternoon  I  came  with  the  expectation, 
which  I  have  since  been  compelled  to  abandon, 
of  placing  in  nomination  for  the  office  of  Rep 
resentative  in  Congress  from  this  district  the 
name  of  the  man  I  believed,  and  still  believe,  to 
be  the  choice  of  a  majority  of  the  members  of 
our  party."  (At  this  there  was  a  subdued  com 
motion  throughout  the  hall,  growing  louder  as 
feet  were  shuffled  and  delegates  pressed  nearer 
the  rostrum,  while  their  questions  as  they  asked 
one  another  what  it  meant  were  mingled  with 
ejaculations  which  were  not  chosen  with  a  view 
to  elegance  of  expression.) 

"  Be  patient,  all  of  you,  if  you  would  hear 
what  I  have  undertaken  to  tell  you,"  the  old 
gentleman  resumed,  extending  a  hand  and  a 
long  arm  over  his  auditors  authoritatively. 
"  Fellow  Democrats,  without  beating  around 
the  bush  I  will  make  a  long  story  short  by  say 
ing  to  you  that,  for  personal  reasons  of  his  own, 
which,  whatever  they  may  be,  we  must  concede 
to  be,  in  the  judgment  of  him  whom  they  most 
concern,  good  and  sufficient,  the  man  who  I 
am  morally  certain  would  have  been  declared 
their  nominee  by  a  majority  of  the  delegates  to 
this  convention  has  changed  his  mind  and  has 


"The  Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll"   295 

determined  to  retire  from  politics."  (There 
was  another  commotion  here,  more  vigorous 
than  the  first,  but  shorter,  in  the  convention's 
eagerness  to  lose  no  word  of  the  speaker's.) 
"  So  it  is  my  unwelcome  function,  Democrats 
of  Kentucky,  to  come  before  you  at  the  urgent 
and  repeated  solicitation  of  the  Hon.  Morgan 
Tunstall  himself  and,  in  his  behalf,  not  only  to 
inform  you  that  he  refuses  to  allow  his  own 
name  to  be  placed  in  nomination,  but  that  it  is 
his  desire  that,  instead,  I  shall  second  the  nom 
ination  of  the  Hon.  Sidney  Garrard." 

The  effect  of  this  announcement,  according 
to  the  report  published  in  next  morning's  Globe, 
was  "  hard  to  describe.  Consternation  was 
plainly  written  in  the  ranks  of  the  Tunstall 
delegates,  whose  tense  faces,  lifted  upward  to 
the  aged  speaker,  broke  into  an  agitated  sea  of 
dismay,  perplexity,  incredulity,  disgust,  aston 
ishment,  and  anger,  from  which  sounded  sharp 
exclamations,  muttered  oaths,  and  here  and 
there  a  groan  and  an  unmistaken  hiss.  The 
Garrard  forces  were  scarcely  less  a  study.  As 
they  took  in  the  significance  of  the  thunderclap 
from  the  stage,  they  responded  with  a  sponta 
neous  cheer,  but  it  was  short  and  seemed  to  die 
away  in  doubt.  They  looked  into  one  another's 


296  The  Opponents 

eyes  and  found  not  answers  to  their  question 
ing,  but  questions  similar  to  their  own  —  What 
does  it  mean?  Is  it  a  trick?  The  most  vivid 
and  violent  part  of  the  scene,  however,  was  in 
that  portion  of  the  hall  occupied  by  the  dele 
gates  from  the  Pocket.  These  were  all  sup 
porters  of  Poindexter,  and  they  did  not  try  to 
conceal  their  fury  at  what  they  considered  Tun- 
stall's  betrayal  of  his  ally  from  the  Pocket. 
Every  man  of  them  was  on  his  feet  —  and  his 
feet  usually  on  the  bottom  of  the  chair  on  which 
he  had  been  sitting  —  and  with  distorted  face 
was  hooting  and  howling  out  his  passion.  The 
air  was  thick  with  doubled  fists  and  cries  of 
'  Take  him  out !  '  '  Traitor !  '  '  What  did  he 
get?'"  etc. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  the  tumult  sub 
sided,  at  least  temporarily.  Shelby  Letcher 
was  waiting  to  proceed  with  his  remarks,  and 
curiosity  to  hear  what  else  remained  to  be 
said  did  far  more  to  restore  order  than  the 
energetic  efforts  of  the  Chairman  did. 

"  I  am  here,"  Mr.  Letcher  went  on,  his  voice 
seeming  to  have  gathered  some  of  the  excite 
ment  with  which  the  hall  was  now  charged, 
"  unwillingly  to  fulfil  the  commission  that  has 
been  imposed  upon  me.  In  withdrawing  the 


"The  Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll"    297 

name  of  Mr.  Tunstall  from  this  canvass,  I  speak 
for  him  alone ;  in  seconding  the  nomination  of 
Mr.  Garrard,  I  speak  for  Mr.  Tunstall  and  for 
myself.  Mr.  Tunstall  wishes  me  to  assure  you 
that  he  regrets  that  the  campaign  proceeded 
so  far  before  he  determined  to  quit  it ;  that  he 
is  grateful  for  the  loyal  support  he  has  received 
at  the  hands  of  so  many  of  you,  and  that 
he  deplores  the  wasted  exertions  which  he  in 
duced  you  to  put  forth  so  generously  in  his 
behalf;  nevertheless,  he  particularly  wishes  me 
to  assure  you  that  his  decision  to  go  no  further 
in  the  matter  is  absolute  and  final.  And  know 
ing  the  man  as  I  do,  I  can  further  assure  you  — 
if  it  were  necessary  to  make  any  such  assurance 
to  those  knowing  him  as  you  do  —  that  there 
can  be  not  the  remotest  question  of  his 
sincerity. 

"  So  much  for  that  part  of  my  duty.  I  have 
discharged  it  with  reluctance,  for  I  believe 
that  Morgan  Tunstall  is  the  ablest  leader  of 
our  party  in  Kentucky,  and  I  earnestly  de 
sired  his  election  to  Congress  this  fall,  both 
because  it  would  have  been  for  the  signal 
honor  and  advantage  of  our  district  to  have 
such  a  representative  at  Washington  and  be 
cause  I  wished  to  see  him  take  the  place  in  the 


298  The  Opponents 

direction  of  our  national  legislation  and  in  the 
councils  of  our  national  party  to  which  his 
commanding  gifts  and  accomplishments  so 
pre-eminently  entitle  him. 

"  The  second  part  of  my  duty  —  the  indorse 
ment  of  the  candidacy  of  the  Hon.  Sidney 
Garrard  —  I  also  discharge  with  some  reluct 
ance.  It  is  well  known  that,  neighbor  and 
friend  as  he  is,  —  even  almost  as  a  son,  —  it  was 
with  pain  that  I  have  withheld  my  support 
from  him  in  this  campaign.  Frankly  I  thought 
he  could  wait ;  that  it  would  be  better  for  him 
if  he  had  to  wait.  All  of  us  have  our  short 
comings,  and  his  are  to  be  charged  to  the  im 
pulsiveness  of  an  honest  and  courageous  youth. 
He  will  get  over  his  youth,  my  friends,  and 
with  his  courage  and  honesty  left  him,  added 
to  the  soberer  temperament  and  the  broaden 
ing  experience  of  his  increasing  years,  he  will 
yet  make  an  all-wool  Democrat.  As  you  are 
aware,  there  are  some  things  in  his  record 
which  I  do  not  like,  but  I  have  suggested  to 
you  their  explanation,  and  we  surely  can  well 
afford  to  bear  with  a  young  Democrat  whose 
divergence  from  the  plummet  line  of  the  Fathers 
is  due  to  his  effort  to  stand  so  straight  that  he 
is  sometimes  a  little  sway-backed.  With  all 


"The  Old  Hickory  of  Luttroll"   299 

his  faults  I  believe,  and  the  great  chieftain 
whose  name  I  have  just  withdrawn  from  this 
convention  believes  with  me,  that  Sidney  Gar- 
rard  is  the  most  available  man  for  the  party 
now  to  unite  on.  At  this  stage  of  threatening 
party  break-up  and  realignment  in  Kentucky," 
he  continued,  with  oratorical  confusion  of 
metaphors,  "  we  cannot  afford  to  invite  need 
less  dissensions.  Three  men  have  made  this 
contest  for  Congress.  One  of  them  has  volun 
tarily  withdrawn.  Two  remain  in  the  race. 
Our  choice  should  be  one  of  these.  It  would 
be  folly  to  inspire  the  resentment  of  their  ad 
herents  by  going  beyond  these  two,  at  this  late 
hour,  to  select  a  candidate  who  has  known 
nothing  of  the  brunt  of  the  battle.  No  man  in 
this  district  has  stancher,  more  zealous  friends 
than  Sidney  Garrard.  Shall  we  wantonly  slap 
them  in  the  face  now  —  after  his  chief  competi 
tor  has  retired  in  his  favor  —  by  going  into  the 
woods  and  bushes  for  a  dark  horse?  That 
would  be  a  poor  way  to  unite  the  party,  when 
Morgan  Tunstall's  action  really  leaves  no  ob 
stacle  to  party  union.  Gentlemen,  you  must 
know  that  the  nominee  of  this  convention  will 
be  Garrard  or  Poindexter.  I  know,  and  you 
must  know,  that,  as  by  far  the  stronger  candi- 


300  The  Opponents 

date,  rallying  to  his  standard  even  with  Tunstall 
in  the  field  almost  enough  delegates  to  nomi 
nate  him,  Garrard  will  be  that  nominee.  Be 
cause,  therefore,  Morgan  Tunstall,  who  had 
practically  won  this  nomination,  thinks  it  should 
go  to  this  gallant  young  leader ;  because  by  his 
remarkable  fight  against  stupendous  odds  he  is 
entitled  to  this  honor  over  any  opponent  that 
might  now  seek  to  lift  the  lance  dropped  by 
the  peerless  Tunstall ;  because  he  is  clearly  the 
second  choice  of  the  Democrats  of  this  district, 
who  are  not  to  have  their  first  choice ;  because 
he  is  the  son  of  my  county,  whose  heretofore 
divided  allegiance  now  centres  on  him ;  because 
he  is  my  neighbor  and  one  of  my  boys  whom, 
with  God's  help  and  your  help,  I  intend  to  live 
to  make  as  rock-ribbed  a  Democrat  as  I  am 
myself;  and  most  important  of  all,  because  he 
is  now  the  one  man  in  this  district  who  can 
best  insure  the  harmony  and  invincibility  of 
our  glorious  old  party  in  this  campaign,  I 
second  the  nomination  of  Sidney  Garrard,  of 
the  county  of  Luttroll." 


XXIV 

MORGAN  TUNSTALL   DECIDES   HIS   FUTURE 

TUNSTALL'S  decision  to  withdraw  from  the 
race  and  throw  his  influence  to  Garrard  had 
been  made  only  that  morning,  on  the  train  from 
Yardley  to  Bracebury.  His  horseback  ride 
through  the  mountains  had  been  a  distraction 
from  thought.  The  rough  and  often  perilous 
roads,  the  changing  scene,  the  almost  continu 
ous  objective  demands  on  his  mind,  the  deep 
sleep  in  some  humble  cabin  after  a  long  day  in 
the  saddle,  left  him  little  opportunity  for  re 
flection,  even  had  he  desired  it.  But  he  had 
no  such  desire.  His  one  purpose  was  to 
escape  reflection,  to  get  away  from  the  spot, 
and  all  its  associations,  where  the  blow  had 
fallen  upon  him.  No  mind  could  stand  many 
days  such  as  that  through  which  he  had  passed 
after  his  morning  with  Margaret  Helm  and 
Grace  Knowles.  He  fled,  as  a  wounded  ani 
mal  flees,  homeward ;  though  but  for  his  knowl 
edge  that  there  was  unfinished  work  for  him 


302  The  Opponents 

in  that  direction,  he  soon  might  have  drifted 
anywhere,  instead  of  keeping  to  his  course. 
The  one  definite  conception  that  took  shape 
in  his  mind,  when  there  was  room  there  for 
anything  beyond  the  agony  and  despair  of 
those  first  hours  after  he  had  been  struck  down, 
was  that  back  in  Kentucky  he  had  set  his  hand 
to  work  which  yet  remained  to  be  completed, 
and  to  that  he  turned  like  an  automaton. 
There  was  nothing  else  for  him  to  turn  to. 

Yet,  when  he  had  put  the  mountains  behind 
him  and  had  reached  the  rolling  meadows  of 
his  own  county,  every  familiar  landmark  seemed 
to  oppress  him  with  a  new  distaste  for  the 
work  to  which  he  was  going  back.  When  he 
had  left  for  the  mountains,  that  work  had  been 
infused  with  his  own  life  blood,  and  he  had 
given  to  it  the  best  of  his  vitality  because  by 
it  he  would  lay  a  stepping-stone  into  the  new 
world  that  Margaret  Helm's  coming  had 
opened  before  him.  But  now,  returning  to 
take  up  his  work  again,  he  returned  to  take  up 
an  empty,  purposeless  thing,  —  a  thing,  indeed, 
that  was  worse  than  purposeless,  for  its  sole 
power  was  to  remind  him  of  the  purpose  with 
which  he  had  once  vivified  it.  There  was  no 
longer  anything  in  it  for  him,  —  not  even  the 


Tunstall  Decides  his  Future      303 

solace  of  work  for  work's  sake,  as  there  had 
been  before  he  knew  Margaret  Helm.  On  the 
contrary,  as  he  approached  the  point  of  re 
suming  his  political  campaign,  his  anticipation 
was  not  only  utterly  devoid  of  interest,  but  was 
sickened  with  loathing  and  revulsion.  His  in 
clination  was  to  turn  and  flee  from  Bracebury, 
as  he  had  fled  from  the  mountains  of  West 
Virginia. 

He  made  his  way,  therefore,  to  Bracebury 
leisurely,  with  no  effort  to  reach  the  town  be 
fore  the  day  on  which  the  convention  was  to 
meet.  He  did  not  even  communicate  with  his 
friends  until  the  morning  of  that  day,  on  his 
arrival  at  Yardley.  It  was  not  until  he  had  left 
his  horse  at  Yardley  and  had  taken  the  train  for 
Bracebury  that  the  full  repellent  force  of  the 
work  to  which  he  was  speeding  bore  on  him 
overpoweringly. 

Then  first  came  the  suggestion  of  relief.  He 
played  with  it  a  little,  even  smiled  at  it  once, 
held  it  away  from  him,  drew  it  back ;  con 
templated  it  from  various  sides :  self-indul- 
gently,  as  if  he  recognized  himself  as  a  child 
with  a  toy,  —  with  profound  concentration  a 
few  seconds  later. 

Within  ten  minutes  after  the  idea  had  been 


304  The  Opponents 

born  he  had  accepted  it  as  a  finality  and  had 
decided  his  future.  He  would  withdraw  from 
the  campaign  for  Congress.  He  would  quit 
politics.  He  would  turn  his  back  upon  the 
whole  hollow,  degrading  business. 

He  settled  back  in  his  seat  as  if  for  the  first 
time  he  had  found  a  position  of  comfort. 
Some  might  say,  he  reflected,  that  he  owed  it 
to  his  friends  to  push  his  candidacy  to  the 
end,  especially  as  he  was  practically  sure  to 
win,  but  it  was  more  his  fight  than  his  friends', 
and  in  this  instance  he  owed  less  to  them  than 
to  himself.  He  would  not  sacrifice  himself  to 
the  interest  of  others,  particularly  when  that 
interest  was  mainly  sentimental.  Poindexter 
was  the  only  one  who  might  feel  that  he  had 
real  cause  of  complaint.  He  had  promised  to 
use  his  influence  as  a  Congressman  to  secure 
the  office  of  Internal  Revenue  Collector  for 
Poindexter.  Well,  he  would  not  be  Congress 
man —  and  that  would  count  for  much  —  but 
he  could  still  use  what  influence  he  might  have 
for  Poindexter.  If  that  should  not  satisfy 
Poindexter,  then  to  the  devil  with  Poindexter. 
He  should  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  Poin 
dexter,  anyway.  He  was  in  no  mood  now  to 
consult  the  code  of  "  honor  among  thieves." 


Tunstall  Decides  his  Future      305 

He  would  not  only  withdraw,  but  he  would 
swing  his  following  to  Sidney  Garrard  and  insure 
his  nomination.  Some  of  Tunstall's  delegates, 
he  was  aware,  might  mutiny,  but  that  would 
not  matter.  Garrard  already  lacked  but  a  few 
votes  of  the  number  necessary  to  nominate, 
and  it  would  be  easy  for  Tunstall  to  throw 
those  to  him.  Indeed,  Tunstall  admitted  that 
with  himself  out  of  the  contest  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  prevent  enough  of  his 
supporters  going  over  to  Garrard  to  nominate 
him,  in  preference  to  any  other  man  in  the  dis 
trict  that  could  be  pitted  against  him. 

Let  it  not  be  inferred  that  in  determining  to 
nominate  his  rival  in  love  as  well  as  in  politics 
Tunstall  was  impelled  by  any  motive  of  romantic 
self-abnegation  and  heroism.  He  acquitted 
himself  of  any  such  incentive.  For  one  thing, 
he  was  no  longer  a  rival  of  Sidney  Garrard 
for  the  love  of  Margaret  Helm.  Margaret  was 
no  longer  a  possibility  to  Tunstall.  If  she 
had  been,  he  would  never  have  surrendered 
to  any  one  an  inch  that  could  have  helped 
to  advance  himself  in  her  favor.  More  than 
that,  Tunstall  realized,  without  compunction, 
that  if  Margaret  Helm  had  been  still  a  pos 
sibility,  and  he  had  been  compelled  to  retire 


306  The  Opponents 

from  the  Congressional  race,  he  would  not  have 
been  equal  to  bestowing  on  any  lover  of  Mar 
garet's  an  honor  that  might  have  strengthened 
his  suit.  Tunstall  was  human,  and  he  was 
honest  with  himself. 

Tunstall  liked  Sidney  Garrard.  He  even 
admired  him  for  the  things  which  he  some 
times  laughed  at  to  Garrard's  face.  With  his 
own  abandonment  of  politics,  and  with  Mar 
garet  Helm  out  of  consideration,  Tunstall 
wished  to  see,  even  to  help,  Garrard  attain 
his  ambition.  Besides,  some  day,  in  all  prob 
ability,  Margaret  Helm  would  be  Garrard's 
wife,  and  it  was  much  to  feel  that  in  further 
ing  the  fortunes  of  Garrard  he  would  be  doing 
something  for  Margaret  Helm.  But  it  was  at 
this  point  that  the  human  nerve  in  the  man 
was  to  ache  most  sharply.  He  would  have 
done  anything  for  Margaret's  happiness,  and 
yet  when  it  came  to  doing  it  through  help 
ing  one  who  was  perhaps  to  take  the  place  in 
her  heart  that  he  himself  had  hoped  to  hold, 
Tunstall  shrank  in  acute,  though  momentary 
anguish  and  rebellion.  No  man  ever  loved  a 
woman  if  he  was  superior  to  this  feeling  of 
rebellion  at  the  thought  of  any  other  man  in 
her  arms. 


Tunstall  Decides  his  Future      307 

At  the  first  station  where  the  train  stopped 
after  Tunstall  had  made  his  decision  he  went 
out  and  telegraphed  John  W.  Driggs  at  Brace- 
bury:  "  Don  tallow  a  ballot  before  I  arrive,  at 
two  o'clock"  Then  he  returned  to  his  seat  in 
the  car  and  pondered  the  plan  to  be  put  in 
operation  when  he  should  reach  Bracebury. 

Two  methods  of  action  occurred  to  him. 
One  was  simply  to  withdraw,  in  favor  of  Garrard, 
and  at  the  same  time  quietly  transfer  enough 
of  his  following  to  Garrard  to  make  sure  his 
nomination.  This  course,  sprung  so  abruptly 
on  the  convention,  would  be  somewhat  theatric, 
and  would  impress  some  of  his  adherents  with 
the  idea  that  in  failing  to  take  them  into  his 
confidence  he  had  not  treated  them  with  suffi 
cient  consideration.  It  would  also  perhaps 
alienate  some  of  them  from  him  beyond  the 
limits  within  which  they  could  be  controlled  by 
his  organization.  This,  however,  as  already 
suggested,  would  be  immaterial.  So  few  ad 
ditional  votes  were  needed  by  Garrard  that 
Tunstall  knew  that  more  than  the  necessary 
number  could  be  counted  on.  For  the  possi 
ble  weakening,  or  even  collapse,  of  his  own 
organization  Tunstall  cared  nothing.  Quitting 
politics  entirely  and  permanently,  he  had  no 


308  The  Opponents 

further  use  for  an  organization.  He  would 
have  preferred,  out  of  regard  for  his  support 
ers,  not  to  wait  thus  till  the  last  hour  before 
confiding  to  them  his  decision  to  withdraw, 
but  it  was  not  worth  while  to  concern  himself 
about  that.  He  could  not  have  confided  to 
them  his  decision  before  he  had  made  it.  As 
for  the  theatric  aspect  of  the  proceeding,  he 
did  not  give  that  a  second  thought.  Of  two 
effective  means  of  accomplishing  an  end,  one 
theatric  and  the  other  not,  the  politician  usually 
chooses  the  theatric. 

The  second  method  of  action,  which  Tun- 
stall  reviewed  briefly,  was  more  indirect,  and 
would  have  appealed  to  him  more  strongly  if 
he  had  not  lost  all  interest  in  making  an  adroit 
political  play  merely  for  the  love  of  the  play. 
It  contemplated  that  he  should  not  openly  with 
draw  from  the  contest,  but  that  ostensibly  he 
should  fight  it  out.  The  balloting  would  begin, 
and  the  deadlock  between  Garrard,  Poindexter, 
and  himself  would  result.  This  would  be  pro 
tracted  by  Tunstall  until  it  had  the  appearance 
of  a  stubborn  struggle,  and  finally,  atTunstall's 
secret  dictation,  enough  of  Poindexter's  dele 
gates  should  go  over  to  Garrard  to  nominate 
him,  instead  of  carrying  out  the  terms  of  the 


Tunstall  Decides  his  Future      309 

deal  between  Poindexter  and  Tunstall  to  go 
over  to  Tunstall.  The  consequence  would  be 
the  nomination  of  Garrard,  no  less  at  the  in 
stance  of  Tunstall  by  this  method  of  procedure 
than  by  the  more  direct  one.  Moreover,  it 
would  have  the  merit  of  leaving  the  public  and 
Garrard  himself  under  the  impression  that  he 
had  won  by  his  own  efforts,  after  the  contest 
had  been  fought  out  on  the  ground  of  Tunstall's 
choosing.  Victory  coming  to  Garrard  thus 
would  no  doubt  be  more  gratifying  to  him  than 
if  he  knew  it  to  be  owed  to  Tunstall's  unex 
pected  and  unexplained  generosity.  But  that 
consideration  had  no  weight  with  Tunstall ;  or 
if  it  had,  it  was  to  turn  him  against  it.  Even 
if  he  had  a  heart  now  for  conducting  such  a 
tactical  manoeuvre  as  this,  he  was  so  human  as 
to  prefer,  if  it  came  to  analyses  of  motives,  that 
in  the  future  years,  with  their  possibilities  of 
what  Sidney  Garrard  might  be  to  Margaret 
Helm,  she  should  not  be  wholly  ignorant  of 
what  Morgan  Tunstall,  who  she  would  know 
had  loved  her  also,  had  done  in  Sidney's  be 
half.  Perhaps  she  would  even  understand  that 
he  had  done  it  more  on  her  account  than  on 
Sidney's. 


XXV 

MORGAN    TUNSTALL     CARRIES     OUT     HIS 
DECISION 

WHEN  his  train  arrived  at  Bracebury  Tunstall 
was  met  at  the  station  by  John  W.  Driggs  and 
two  or  three  others  of  his  lieutenants.  Driving 
to  the  town  hall,  they  found  that  the  convention 
had  reassembled  but  a  few  minutes  before,  and 
Hoard  was  just  beginning  his  speech  placing 
Garrard  in  nomination.  Tunstall  went  to  one 
of  the  little  rooms  back  of  the  stage,  and  send 
ing  for  half  a  dozen  of  his  leaders  notified  them 
of  his  decision  to  withdraw  and  throw  his  influ 
ence  to  Garrard.  They  were  astonished,  but 
had  little  to  say.  They  knew  Tunstall  well 
enough  to  realize  that  it  would  be  useless  for 
them  to  say  anything.  They  could  not  fathom 
•  his  motives,  nor  did  he  explain,  beyond  his 
answer  to  one  who  burst  out  with : 

"  Holy  Moses,  Mr.  Tunstall,  what  does  it  all 
mean  ?  " 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision    3 1 1 

"  That  I  have  changed  my  mind,"  he  replied, 
"  and  am  done  with  politics.  I  am  sorry  if  I 
seem  to  have  imposed  upon  you,  gentlemen, 
but  I  had  no  such  purpose.  Up  to  an  hour 
ago  I  had  fully  intended  to  keep  on  with  the 
thing." 

Two  or  three  of  them  laughed  faintly  and 
spoke  meekly. 

"  Well,  I  reckon,  if  you  can  stand  it,  we  can," 
said  one  of  these. 

Two  or  three  others  darkened  sullenly,  but 
made  no  open  protest.  John  W.  Driggs,  with 
his  thumbs  under  his  suspenders,  looked  from 
one  to  another  and  remarked  with  equable 
resignation : 

"  Well,  boys,  the  old  man  always  knows  what 
he 's  about." 

Squire  Breckinridge  Bodine's  eyes  batted 
weakly,  and  he  fanned  himself  nervously  with 
his  hat,  but  his  only  utterance  was  a  short- 
breathed  — 

"  Lord  'a'  mercy !  " 

The  one  man  who  openly  rebelled  against 
Tunstall's  announcement  was  Shelby  Letcher. 
Leaning  forward  and  shaking  his  long  finger  in 
Tunstall's  face,  he  served  notice : 

"  It 's  preposterous,   Morgan  Tunstall,   and 


3 1 2  The  Opponents 

we  are  not  going  to  submit  to  it.  You  can't 
trifle  with  us  this  way.  It's  too  late  to  talk 
about  withdrawing  when  you  are  in  an  hour  of 
a  sure  nomination,  and  I  hereby  notify  you,  if 
you  attempt  it,  I  '11  go  before  the  convention 
and  say  on  the  floor  what  I  'm  saying  here,  and, 
by  the  Eternal,  we  '11  nominate  you  in  spite  of 
yourself!  " 

"  And  I  '11  go  before  the  convention,"  Tun- 
stall  smiled  in  reply,  "  and  tell  them  flatly  that 
I  '11  refuse  a  nomination  if  given  me.  Instead 
of  making  the  speech  you  threaten  to  make, 
Mr.  Letcher,  I  urge  you,  as  a  friend  of  mine,  a 
friend  of  Sidney  Garrard,  and  above  all  a  friend 
of  the  Democratic  party,  to  go  before  the  con 
vention  and  not  only  withdraw  my  name  but 
second  the  nomination  of  Sidney  Garrard. 
You  are  the  one  man  to  make  that  speech. 
And  you  might  as  well,  for  Sidney  is  bound  to 
be  nominated,  anyway." 

"  I  '11  see  you  in  Jericho  first,  sir !  " 
Nevertheless,  after  a  ten  minutes'  argument, 
during  which  Tunstall  pressed  most  of  the 
points  which  Mr.  Letcher  subsequently  re 
peated  as  his  own  in  the  speech  reported  in 
preceding  pages,  the  old  gentleman  reluctantly 
surrendered. 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision    3 1  3 

In  the  convention  hall  the  clamor  was  now 
tumultuous.  The  county  of  Luttroll  had  been 
called,  the  demonstration  in  favor  of  Tunstall 
was  in  progress,  and  the  cries  for  Letcher  had 
already  reached  the  old  war-horse,  who  with 
head  uplifted  was  drinking  in  the  sound. 

"  Now  seems  to  be  your  time,  Mr.  Letcher," 
Tunstall  smiled. 

The  veteran  buttoned  his  coat  and  cleared 
his  voice,  as  he  went  to  the  door. 

"  I  am  ready  for  them,  sir,"  he  replied,  leav 
ing  the  room  and  crossing  over  to  the  wings, 
whence  he  stepped  out  on  the  stage. 

Most  of  the  others  who  had  been  in  the 
room  were  now,  at  Tunstall's  suggestion,  join 
ing  their  delegations  on  the  floor  of  the  con 
vention,  in  order  better  to  assert  leadership 
of  them  in  the  new  and  unforeseen  turn  of  the 
situation.  Tunstall,  accompanied  by  Driggs, 
had  just  stepped  through  the  door  to  follow 
Shelby  Letcher  toward  the  stage  when  Poin- 
dexter,  purple  and  panting,  rushed  up. 

"  What  is  this  damned  rot  I  hear,  Tunstall, 
about  your  fluking  and  throwing  the  race  to 
Garrard  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Tunstall  paused.  "  I  suppose  that  is  about 
the  size  of  it,  Poindexter,"  he  replied.  "  I  Ve 


314  The  Opponents 

concluded  to  quit  and  do  what  I  can  to  nom 
inate  Garrard.  I  sent  for  you  half  an  hour  ago 
to  tell  you  this,  along  with  the  other  boys,  but 
you  were  not  to  be  found." 

"  And  you  mean  to  stand  here  and  tell 
me  to  my  face  that  you  have  thrown  me 
down?" 

"  Well,  Poindexter,  I  'm  sorry  to  disappoint 
you,  but  I  confess  that  you  have  not  entered 
into  the  considerations  that  have  governed  me 
in  this  matter." 

"  In  short,  sir,  you  openly  acknowledge  that 
you  have  repudiated  your  —  your  agreement 
with  me !  " 

"  Not  so  extreme  as  that,  Poindexter.  My 
agreement  was  that  if  you  would  co-operate 
with  me  in  this  canvass,  when  I  got  to  Con 
gress  I  would  recommend  and  urge  your  ap 
pointment  as  Collector  for  this  district  —  I 
speak  freely  in  the  presence  of  John  here, 
for  he  knows  of  the  arrangement  already. 
But  I  am  not  going  to  Congress;  though 
I  will  still  use  my  influence  to  get  you  the 
appointment,  if  you  think  it  will  do  you  any 
good." 

"  Good  !  Hell !  What  good  can  anybody's 
influence  do  me  if  the  man  who  is  going  to 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision    315 

Congress  is  Sidney  Garrard?  He'll  name  the 
Collector,  and  you  know  perfectly  well  he  'd 
no  more  think  of  naming  me  than  he  would  of 
naming  John  W.  Driggs  there  himself." 

"  Well,  I  'm  sorry  things  have  got  into  this 
mess,  Poindexter,"  Tunstall  said,  taking  a  step 
forward.  "  We  '11  talk  it  over  later  this  after 
noon.  Come  on:  Mr.  Letcher  is  making  a 
speech,  and  we  don't  want  to  lose  that." 

Tunstall  started  toward  the  wings  of  the 
stage,  but  Poindexter  did  not  move. 

"  We  will  talk  it  over  later,"  he  called  after 
him ;  "  and  I  give  you  fair  warning,  Morgan 
Tunstall,  that  if  you  go  on  with  this  welching 
business  we  '11  have  a  settlement  as  well  as  a 
talk.  There  's  yet  time  for  you  to  stop  this 
sell-out,  and,  by  God !  you  'd  better  pull  in 
your  ropes  before  it  is  too  late,  if  you  don't 
want  them  to  stretch  your  own  neck." 

Tunstall,  paying  no  attention  to  this,  went  on 
and  stood  in  the  wings,  where  he  could  see  and 
hear  Shelby  Letcher  without  being  seen  him 
self  by  those  in  the  auditorium;  while  Poin 
dexter  hastened  down  to  that  portion  of  the 
convention  hall  assigned  to  the  delegates  from 
the  Pocket. 

Tunstall   missed    nothing   of   the    effect  — 


316  The  Opponents 

already  indicated  in  this  chronicle  —  of  Shelby 
Letcher's  speech  on  the  delegates.  He  noted 
their  commotion  following  the  first  intimation 
that  his  name  was  not  to  be  placed  before 
them ;  the  suspense  with  which  they  awaited 
a  fuller  revelation ;  the  dismay  among  his  fol 
lowers  on  the  definite  announcement  of  his 
withdrawal  and  of  his  desire  that  Sidney  Gar- 
rard  receive  the  nomination ;  the  bewilderment 
of  the  Garrard  forces,  and  the  rage  of  Poin- 
dexter's  men  from  the  Pocket.  He  smiled 
more  than  once  at  the  Old  Hickory's  patronage 
and  egotism  in  seconding  the  nomination  of 
Sidney  Garrard,  and  he  observed  that  these  were 
not  lost  entirely  on  the  audience,  but  to  some 
extent  relaxed  the  tension  produced  on  it  by 
the  first  half  of  the  speech.  As  Shelby  Letcher 
finished  his  peroration  and  walked  to  the  back 
of  the  stage  to  a  seat,  there  were  two  seconds 
of  dead  silence  in  the  hall.  Then  there  were 
hand-clappings  on  the  stage,  followed  at  length 
by  a  rousing  cheer  by  the  Garrard  delegates, 
led  by  Nelse  Tigert.  Tunstall's  supporters 
were  motionless  and  silent  in  their  seats,  with  a 
few  exceptions  here  and  there  who  sang  out  with 
forced  cheerfulness,  "  What 's  the  matter  with 
Tunstall?  He's  all  right!  "  or,  "  Hurrah  for 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision    317 

Tunstall  and  Garrard !  "  Over  in  the  corner 
of  the  representatives  of  the  Pocket,  where  such 
an  outburst  of  indignation  had  at  one  time 
interrupted  Shelby  Letcher's  speech,  a  more 
methodical  expression  of  contempt  was  now 
audible  and  visible.  Groans  and  taunts  were 
measured  out  in  chorus.  References,  direct 
and  indirect,  to  Tunstall  were  greeted  with 
sarcastic  exclamations  and  derisive  laughter. 
Above  the  concerted  clamor  individual  voices 
shouted:  "How  much  did  he  get?"  "Mor 
gan  T.  —  C.  O.  D. !  "  "  Everybody  step  up 
and  get  a  transfer  check  !  "  "  And  Tun,  he  got 
de  mon  !  "  "  Stand  up,  Tunny,  and  tell  us  all 
about  it !  "  "  Yes,  come  out  and  show  your 
self,  Tunny  !  "  Soon  this  last  phrase  was  taken 
up  in  chorus,  and  the  whole  Pocket  crowd  sang 
out  with  insistent  reiteration,  "  Come  out  and 
show  yourself,  Tunny." 

It  was  not  long  before  this  provoked  the 
other  delegates  to  counter  demonstrations. 
The  Garrard  men  now  cheered  lustily  for  Tun 
stall,  while  most  of  Tunstall's  original  sup 
porters,  who  up  to  this  point  had  been  rather 
quiet,  jumped  to  their  feet  and  fiercely  yelled 
back  the  name  of  their  leader  to  the  insults  of 
the  Pocket.  This  continued,  without  sign  of 


318  The  Opponents 

abatement,  for  two  or  three  minutes,  when  the 
Chairman,  looking  around  and  seeing  Tunstall 
standing  in  the  wings  calmly  surveying  the 
turbulent  scene,  got  up  and  crossed  over  to 
him. 

"  Morgan,"  he  said,  "  they  seem  determined 
to  have  you,  and  I  believe  myself  a  few  words 
from  you  would  do  more  than  anything  else  to 
end  this." 

"  I  was  just  thinking  that  perhaps  I  ought  to 
say  something,"  Tunstall  replied. 

The  Chairman  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  as 
they  walked  down  to  the  front  of  the  stage  the 
auditorium  resounded  with  shout  upon  shout 
that  completely  submerged  the  noise  of  the 
Pocket  delegates. 

Tunstall  stood  waiting  for  the  tumult  to 
subside. 

"  Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen  of  the  con 
vention,"  he  finally  began ;  but  he  got  no 
farther.  The  Pocket  delegates,  standing  in 
their  chairs,  started  a  determined  effort  to  cry 
him  down.  They  would  not  hear  him,  and  did 
not  propose  that  anybody  else  in  the  hall 
should  hear  him.  Their  mouths  were  wide 
with  hoots,  howls,  cat-calls,  and  varied  objurga 
tions.  The  air  was  raucous  with  tin  horns. 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision     3 1 9 

"  Take  him  out !  "  "  Sit  down  !  "  "  Go  hang 
yourself! "  were  among  the  distinguishable 
words  to  which  the  horns  furnished  accompani 
ment.  Upon  the  orchestra  railing,  not  six  feet 
away  from  Tunstall,  Dunk  Peabody  had  climbed, 
and  with  his  coat  under  his  arm  and  his  hat  in 
his  hand  describing  many  fantastic  gyrations,  he 
was  catching  up  and  passing  on,  as  he  bobbed 
about  on  his  narrow  footing,  every  phrase  that 
sounded  like  an  intended  insult  to  Tunstall. 
The  Chairman,  energetically  pounding  the  table 
with  his  gavel  and  violently  commanding  order, 
only  added  to  the  disorder. 

Tunstall  suspended  all  effort  to  speak.  He 
could  not  have  been  heard  by  even  Dunk  Pea- 
body.  He  remained  standing,  patiently  wait 
ing  his  opportunity,  his  purpose  not  to  be 
driven  plainly  indicated  in  posture  and  feature. 

It  continued  thus  for  ten,  twenty,  forty  min 
utes.  Twice  again,  as  the  din  in  the  Pocket 
died  away,  apparently  from  exhaustion,  Tun 
stall  essayed  to  speak,  only  to  desist  as  the 
protestations  burst  forth  with  renewed  violence. 
After  the  last  of  these  attempts  he  had  settled 
back  against  the  Chairman's  table,  supporting 
himself  against  its  edge,  in  an  attitude  that  so 
clearly  implied  his  determination  to  make  the 


320  The  Opponents 

resistance  of  the  tactics  employed  against  him 
a  matter  of  physical  endurance,  that  his  friends 
and  those  of  Garrard  among  the  delegates  gave 
him  a  ripping  cheer.  They  were  powerless  to 
do  more  in  such  an  emergency,  except  to 
throw  the  disorderly  delegates  bodily  out  of 
the  hall.  Some  of  their  hot-heads  urged  this 
course,  but  were  discountenanced  by  the  more 
diplomatic  leaders,  who  had  an  eye  to  "  har 
monizing"  the  party  after  the  nomination 
should  have  been  made. 

Whether  the  Pocket  men  were  impressed  by 
Tunstall's  evident  purpose  not  to  yield,  or 
whether  their  exertions  finally  wearied  them 
beyond  longer  spirited  perseverance  in  their 
course,  Tunstall,  in  the  end,  had  his  way.  It 
may  be  that  the  incident  of  Dunk  Peabody's 
disappearance  from  his  place  on  the  orchestra 
railing  had  something  to  do  with  the  humor  of 
the  Pocket  which  gave  Tunstall  his  chance. 
Dunk  certainly  showed  no  signs  of  wearying ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  grow  more  agile 
and  more  vociferous  the  longer  he  remained  at 
his  conspicuous  post  of  service.  Finally,  as  he 
was  swirling  his  coat  on  high  in  launching  a 
sweeping  imprecation  upon  "plutycrats  and 
their  minions,"  the  big  form  of  Nelse  Tigert 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision    321 

made  its  way  to  the  railing  and  clasping  Dunk 
around  the  waist,  pulled  him  down. 

"  Come  on,  Dunk,"  Nelse  said ;  "  you  Ve 
got  a  seat  in  the  Luttroll  delegation,  an'  we  're 
lonesome  without  you." 

As  Nelse  marched  down  the  aisle  with  Dunk 
tucked  under  one  arm,  Dunk's  coat,  hat,  and 
tongue  frantically  active  at  one  end  and  his 
feet  at  the  other,  his  progress  was  greeted  by 
the  first  general  laughter  of  the  session,  in 
which  even  the  Pocket  delegates  joined.  It  is 
true  that  one  of  these  advanced  hastily  toward 
Nelse,  as  he  reached  the  Luttroll  section  of 
seats,  with  the  apparent  design  of  rescuing 
Nelse's  captive,  but  Nelse,  grinning,  turned  at 
bay  and  assuming  a  position  as  if  to  defend 
himself,  with  Dunk  Peabody's  rear  extremities 
trained  on  the  enemy,  gave  warning: 

"  Better  stand  back  there,  podner ;  you  're 
liable  to  git  kicked  by  Dunk,  an'  Dunk  is  a 
powerful  bad  kicker  when  he 's  good  an'  riled 
by  the  plutycrats." 

Innocent  reader,  do  you  cavil  at  anything 
set  down  in  these  pages  as  a  libel  on  the  dig 
nity  and  wisdom  with  which  the  sovereignty 
of  our  free  people  asserts  itself  ?  Then,  if  you 
would  remain  innocent,  seek  no  information  of 

21 


322  The  Opponents 

those  who  know  how  the  conventions  that  make 
our  legislators,  executives,  and  judges  are  often 
conducted. 

Nelse  Tigert's  ludicrous  coup  and  his  novel 
method  of  defence  scored  such  a  hit  with  the 
overwrought  delegates  that  any  more  strenu 
ous  purpose  seemed  for  the  moment  forgotten, 
or  at  any  rate  minimized,  and  the  laughter  that 
followed  the  incident  was  still  rippling  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd  when  Tunstall  again 
began  his  remarks,  with  so  little  interruption 
now  that  he  took  no  notice  of  it. 

He  did  not  say  much,  but  what  he  said,  and 
the  manner  of  his  saying  it,  left  no  doubt  of 
his  sincerity  and  firmness.  With  terse  incisive- 
ness  he  repeated  to  the  convention  substan 
tially  what  he  had  told  his  friends  in  the  little 
room  back  of  the  stage.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  quit  politics;  he  could  not  accept  a 
nomination  or  election ;  he  was  sorry  that  he 
had  not  formed  this  resolution  much  sooner; 
he  was  sure  that  Sidney  Garrard  would  make 
them  a  better  Congressman ;  he  was  honest  in 
his  conviction  that  Garrard's  nomination,  with 
the  objects  both  of  securing  a  progressive  and 
fearless  Representative  and  of  promoting  the 
interests  of  the  party  in  the  district,  was  now 


Tunstall  Carries  out  his  Decision    323 

the  best  nomination  that  could  be  made;  he 
was  grateful  to  those  who  had  stood  by  him, 
and  regretful,  only  in  consideration  of  them,  to 
take  the  action  he  did ;  to  those  who  impugned 
his  motives,  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

The  speech  seemed  to  impress  the  conven 
tion  as  a  finality.  It  was  followed  by  little 
manifestation  of  approval  or  disapproval,  the 
delegates  settling  back  in  their  seats  in  quiet 
readiness  for  the  order  of  business. 

The  call  of  the  counties  was  concluded  with 
out  any  additional  speeches,  and  the  long- 
awaited  ballot  began.  Though  the  Tunstall 
delegations,  when  polled,  cast  some  scattering 
votes  for  men  who  had  not  been  placed  in 
nomination,  the  votes  of  the  entire  delegations, 
under  the  unit  rule,  were  registered  in  accord 
ance  with  the  choice  of  the  majority  for  Gar- 
rard.  The  Pocket  counties  stood  doggedly  by 
Poindexter.  By  the  time  Luttroll  County  was 
reached,  with  the  announcement  of  its  solid 
vote  for  Garrard  —  including  the  unwilling  vote 
of  Dunk  Peabody,  under  the  unit  rule  which 
he  had  earlier  in  the  day  so  ardently  demanded 
—  Garrard's  nomination  was  assured. 

This,  of  course,  was  the  signal  for  another 
demonstration  for  Garrard,  and  as  the  delegates 


324  The  Opponents 

were  loudly  calling  his  name  and  clamoring  for 
a  speech,  the  Chairman  appointed  "  the  Hon. 
Morgan  Tunstall  and  the  Hon.  Leonidas  Cox 
Poindexter  a  committee  to  wait  upon  and 
escort  to  the  stage  our  next  Congressman, 
the  Hon.  Sidney  Garrard." 

Tunstall,  who  after  his  remarks  to  the  con 
vention  had  sat  down  in  one  of  the  stage  seats, 
rose  and  went  in  search  of  Garrard.  In  the 
wings  he  came  face  to  face  with  Poindexter, 
hurrying  up  from  the  auditorium.  Poin- 
dexter's  usually  florid  face  was  very  white,  and 
as  he  met  Tunstall  he  stopped  directly  in  front 
of  him. 

"  You  damned  traitor !  "  he  bit  out,  and  with 
his  soft  felt  hat,  which  he  was  carrying  in  his 
hand,  struck  Tunstall  a  vicious  blow  squarely 
on  the  mouth. 

Tunstall,  with  clenched  fist,  sprang  at  his 
assailant,  but  there  was  a  muffled  report  of  a 
pistol  from  Poindexter's  coat-pocket,  and 
Tunstall,  clutching  at  the  canvas  of  one  of  the 
side  scenes  of  the  stage,  sank  to  the  floor. 


XXVI 

THE   SUNLIGHT   ON  THE   WALL 

FROM  the  first  Tunstall  felt  that  his  wound  was 
mortal.  As  he  lay  in  his  bed  at  the  Bracebury 
hotel,  on  the  day  following  the  convention,  he 
was  facing  death  with  an  equanimity  that  ap 
proached  content.  Once  he  wondered  whether, 
if  he  knew  that  resistance  would  defeat  death, 
he  would  care  to  resist.  The  fact  that  he  did 
not  now  care  to  resist,  that  he  did  not  care 
whether  he  lived  or  died,  was  the  best  evidence 
to  him  that  benignant  Nature  had  already  ad 
ministered  to  him  that  blessed  anodyne  which 
she  reserves  for  those  at  whom  she  is  about  to 
strike  her  last  blow.  Aside  from  this  natural 
dispensation,  this  release  from  responsibility 
and  desire,  Tunstall  did  not  ask  himself — or 
if  he  asked  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to 
decide — whether,  if  he  could,  he  would  have 
ordered  his  fate  otherwise.  He  was  no  coward, 
nor  was  he  given  to  morbid  exaggeration,  but 
Nature's  anodyne  must  have  been  materially 


326  The  Opponents 

aided  by  his  state  of  satisfaction  that  the  future 
which  lay  in  wait  for  him  only  yesterday  had 
been  cheated  by  Poindexter's  bullet.  Certainly 
he  harbored  no  vengeful  feeling  toward 
Poindexter. 

But  there  was  one  recurring  irritant,  one 
persistent  obstacle  to  the  serenity  of  his  last 
hours,  which  he  pondered  as  he  lay  with  closed 
eyes  in  his  shaded  room,  and  which  grew  more 
disturbing  the  more  he  pondered  it.  There 
was  something  he  had  left  undone,  something 
he  had  yet  to  do  before  he  died.  He  had 
hastened  away  from  Grace  Knowles  in  West 
Virginia  without  considering  the  possibility  of 
her  revealing  to  Margaret  Helm  the  secret  from 
whose  blight  she  had  been  so  carefully  pro 
tected.  Had  Grace  Knowles,  while  he  was 
pursuing  his  selfish  flight  through  the  moun 
tains,  revealed  to  Margaret  that  secret?  It  is 
true  he  recalled  now  that  in  his  interview  with 
Grace  Knowles  she  had  said  that  nothing  could 
ever  induce  her  to  make  such  a  revelation  to 
Margaret,  and  at  that  time  she  undoubtedly 
had  meant  what  she  said.  But  who  could  tell 
when  she  might  change  her  mind,  or  yield  to 
some  sudden  impulse,  and  betray  everything 
to  Margaret?  Was  there  enough  good,  with 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      327 

enough  strength,  in  Grace  Knowles  to  enable 
her  always  to  resist  the  instinct  of  mother 
hood,  or  the  temptation  to  thrust  herself  into 
Margaret's  purer  and  brighter  world,  at  the 
cost  of  afflicting  her  with  the  knowledge  of  her 
origin's  shame? 

The  risk  was  too  great.  It  must  be  removed. 
That  must  yet  be  his  task.  He  must  not  die, 
he  would  not  die,  before  he  had  attended  to 
that.  If  it  was  in  his  power  to  prevent  it, 
Margaret  should  never  know  her  mother's 
identity  or  story. 

But  could  he  prevent  it?  How  was  he,  a 
dying  man,  to  prevent  it,  if  Grace  Knowles 
should  will  otherwise? 

He  did  not  know  how,  but  he  would  prevent 
it.  He  would  make  sure  of  it  —  he  still  had 
that  confidence  in  himself — though  the  grave 
was  now  but  a  step  before  him. 

The  first  thing  to  be  looked  after  was  the 
arrangement  of  an  interview  with  Grace 
Knowles.  One  of  his  physicians  being  in  the 
room,  Tunstall  asked  if  he  knew  whether 
any  one  from  Luttroll  County  was  still  in 
Bracebury. 

"  Oh !  yes,"  was  the  response.  "  Mr.  Gar- 
rard,  both  of  the  Letchers,  Mr.  Nixon,  and 


328  The  Opponents 

John  Driggs  have  all  been  up  to  ask  about  you 
in  the  last  hour." 

Tunstall  thought  over  the  list.  He  believed 
he  could  call  upon  any  one  of  them  to  do  him 
the  service  he  now  desired,  but  there  were 
reasons  why  it  might  be  best  not  to  call  upon 
the  first  three  in  this  particular  instance. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Driggs,"  he  announced. 

"  But  you  know  you  are  not  to  see  any  one 
yet  awhile." 

"  You  suggested  this  morning  that  it  might 
be  prudent  to  put  my  affairs  in  order." 

"  Oh !  that  is  always  well." 

"  Then  send  for  John  Driggs.  I  want  him 
to  put  them  in  order  for  me.  Besides,  doctor, 
it  is  n't  worth  while  trying  to  deceive  me.  I 
know  my  condition  as  well  as  you  do." 

"  Your  case  is  not  at  all  hopeless.  I  '11  send 
for  Driggs  if  you  will  have  as  little  to  say  to 
him  as  possible." 

"  There  '11  be  little  to  say." 

When  Driggs  entered  and  took  a  seat  by 
Tunstall's  bed,  the  two  men  clasped  hands  in 
silence.  Then  Tunstall  came  directly  to  the 
point. 

"  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me,  John." 

"  Anything  on  earth,  Mr.  Tunstall." 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      329 

"  Find  Grace  Knowles  and  bring  her  here  as 

quickly  as  you  can.  She  was  at Springs 

ten  days  ago." 

"  You  may  certainly  count  on  me." 

"  Better  not  mention  my  name  in  the  matter. 
You  would  have  trouble  in  getting  her  to  come 
if  she  knew  it  was  to  see  me.  Invent  some 
pretext  to  get  her  to  the  hotel  here  and  into 
this  room  without  letting  her  know  that  I  am 
here.  You  can  manage  it,  can't  you?" 

"  I  can,  and  will." 

For  half  a  week  after  Driggs'  departure 
Tunstall  lived  and  waited.  At  the  end  of  the 
second  day  he  received  a  telegram  which 
greatly  strengthened  him  in  his  fight  to  pro 
long  his  life.  It  was  from  Driggs,  and  read : 

"  Start  at  once  with  Mrs.  K.  Will  reach 
Bracebury  Sunday  afternoon'' 

In  the  mean  time  Tunstall's  brain  was  busy 
with  the  problem  he  had  set  himself:  How 
was  he  to  make  sure  that  Margaret  Helm 
should  be  guarded  from  the  wretched  knowl 
edge  of  her  birth  ?  How  was  he  to  deal  with 
Grace  Knowles  to  effect  this  end? 

Many  plans  were  conceived,  weighed,  and 
dismissed,  until  finally  he  settled  on  two.  He 


330  The  Opponents 

would  try  the  first,  and  if  that  should  prove 
unsuccessful,  he  would  have  recourse  to  the 
second,  which  must  not  fail.  With  this  con 
clusion  Tunstall's  mental  faculties  found  grate 
ful  release  from  further  responsibility  in  that 
direction,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  restfully. 
He  had  only  now  to  live  until  he  had  seen 
Grace  Knowles  and  carried  out  one  of  his 
plans  or  the  other. 

John  Driggs  returned  Sunday  afternoon.  As 
he  bent  over  Tunstall  and  took  him  by  the 
hand,  he  did  not  need  to  ask  how  he  was. 
The  nurse  had  told  him  that  in  the  corridor, 
and  Tunstall's  haggard  face  told  him  even 
more  impressively. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Tunstall,  I  am  back,"  he  said 
simply. 

"Thank  you,  John,"  Tunstall  replied  in  a 
voice  whose  weakness  betrayed  no  less  than  his 
face  did  the  ground  he  had  lost  since  Driggs 
had  seen  him.  "Is  she  with  you?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  left  her  in  the  parlor." 

"  Does  she  know  she  is  to  see  me?  " 

"  Oh !  no,  sir.  I  did  n't  mention  your  name. 
I  made  up  a  yarn  of  my  own." 

"  Bring  her  up,  please,  at  once." 

"  All  right,  sir." 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      331 

Driggs  rose  and  was  crossing  the  room  when 
Tunstall  added : 

"  Leave  her  in  here  and  shut  the  door. 
You  stand  outside,  please,  and  keep  others 
out." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Tunstall  lay  with  closed  eyes  and  listened  to 
the  step  of  Driggs  creaking  along  the  corridor 
and  then  down  the  stairs.  "  Driggs  is  doing 
his  best  to  walk  softly,"  he  thought,  and  smiled. 
Then  the  creaking  ceased  and  there  was  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  groans  of  a  heavily  loaded 
wagon  in  the  street  and  by  the  lazy  chant  of 
the  wagon  driver. 

After  a  little  the  creaking  on  the  stairs  began 
again.  "  Driggs  is  having  no  trouble  in  get 
ting  her  here,"  ran  Tunstall's  active  brain.  "  I 
knew  I  could  rely  on  him.  Driggs  would  have 
made  his  mark  in  the  world  if  his  field  had  been 
a  wider  one." 

As  the  steps  approached  down  the  corridor, 
the  rustle  of  skirts  became  audible,  and  Tun 
stall  raised  his  head  a  little  higher  on  the  pil 
lows,  his  face  assuming  the  expression  of  power 
and  will  which  the  painter's  brush  and  even  in 
a  greater  degree  the  photographer's  camera  in 
variably  caught  and  perhaps  exaggerated. 


332  The  Opponents 

There  was  a  pause  outside  the  door,  which 
opened  and  closed  again,  leaving  Mrs.  Knowles 
standing  before  Tunstall.  For  a  little,  while 
her  eyes  were  adapting  themselves  to  the  dark 
ened  room,  she  did  not  move.  Then  she 
walked  over  lightly  to  Tunstall's  bedside. 

"  Mr.  Driggs,"  she  said,  stooping  over  Tun- 
stall,  "  told  me  that  —  " 

She  suddenly  recoiled  with  a  startled  and 
terrified  "  You !  "  repressed  almost  to  a  whis 
per;  then  turned  to  flee  to  the  door.  Half 
way  across  the  room,  she  tottered  with  faint- 
ness  and  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair  for 
support. 

"  Don't  leave  yet,"  Tunstall  called  to  her,  in 
a  tone  at  once  of  reassurance  and  command. 
"  I  have  sent  for  you  because  I  must  have  a 
short  talk  with  you ;  and  I  shall  not  last  much 
longer  to  have  it" 

She  was  shaking  and  sobbing  now  in  the 
weakness  of  her  shocked  nerves. 

"  I  '11  wait  till  you  become  calmer,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  n't  much  to  say ;  but  that  must  be 
clearly  comprehended  by  each  of  us." 

He  lay  silently  watching  her  while  she  dried 
her  eyes  and  gradually  checked  her  sobs. 
Finally  she  drew  herself  erect  and  turning 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      333 

abruptly  toward  Tunstall,  demanded,  with  a 
flash  of  anger  in  her  eyes: 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"  A  last  understanding." 

"Well?" 

"  I  must  be  satisfied  before  I  die  (I  am  not 
satisfied  yet)  that  Miss  Helm  will  be  safe  from 
you  —  that  you  will  not  tell  her  who  she  is  — 
if  I  leave  you  in  the  world  with  her." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  panted,  a 
tremor  of  alarm  modifying  the  challenge  of 
her  voice. 

"  I  mean  that  ever  since  you  told  me  that 
—  Miss  Helm  was  your  daughter  —  " 

"  I  told  you  what?  "  she  interrupted  in  shrill 
astonishment. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  repeat  those  words. 
But  —  " 

"  I  told  you  no  such  thing !  " 

"  Come !  Don't  waste  time.  When  you 
told  me  that,  in  the  woods  that  day — " 

"  I  told  you  no  such  thing,  I  say !  I  remem 
ber  I  started  to  tell  you  —  after  you  had  become 
so  indignant  at  the  very  thought  of  my  daring 
to  venture  within  sight  or  hearing  of  Margaret 
Helm — that  she  was  my  daughter's  life-long, 
dearest  friend,  when  you  so  suddenly  stopped 


334  The  Opponents 

me  by  flying  at  my  throat  as  if  to  strangle  me, 
and  left  without  —  " 

Tunstall,  notwithstanding  his  weakness  and 
his  wound,  had  jerked  himself  up  on  his  elbow, 
and  his  countenance  underwent  a  transforma 
tion  that  suppressed  Mrs.  Knowles'  words  and 
held  her  as  if  fascinated.  Blank  incomprehen 
sion,  vivid  comprehension,  fleeting,  poignant 
humiliation  for  his  mistake,  in  turn  swept  away 
by  a  flood  of  joy  and  thankfulness,  were  graphi 
cally  depicted  on  his  wasted  face,  as  he  stared 
at  Mrs.  Knowles,  his  speechless  mouth  half 
open. 

"This  —  this  is  the  truth?"  he  finally  asked, 
in  a  low-pitched  voice. 

"  Of  course  it  is.  It  never  crossed  my  mind 
to  say  that  Margaret  Helm  was  my  daughter, 
but  I  was  glad  to  let  you  know  that  the  girl 
you  had  such  a  horror  of  me  even  speaking  to 
was  my  daughter's  best  friend." 

Tunstall  sank  back  on  his  pillow  with  a  sigh 
of  profound  relief.  "  Thank  God  !  "  were  the 
words  his  lips,  all  his  being,  breathed,  though 
they  reached  Mrs.  Knowles  only  as  an  indis 
tinguishable  murmur. 

"  My  daughter  lived  in  the  same  town  in 
Virginia  that  Margaret  Helm  lives  in."  Mrs. 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      335 

Knowles  spoke  hurriedly,  as  if  impelled  by 
the  spell  of  the  subject.  "  They  gave  her  an 
other  name  there  —  Elsie  Russell.  Perhaps 
you  have  heard  Margaret  Helm  speak  of  her," 
a  little  wistfully,  almost  interrogatively.  "  She 
and  Margaret  were  inseparable  from  childhood, 
and  after  her  death  Margaret  went  abroad. 
When  she  came  back  this  summer,  and  I  found 
out  she  was  up  there  in  the  mountains,  I  went 
there  because  I  wanted  to  know  Elsie's  friend 
and  because  I  hoped  that  sometimes  she  might 
talk  to  me  of  Elsie.  And  yet  you  —  you  would 
have  denied  me  even  that,  Morgan  Tunstall ! 
Is  there  no  end  to  your  malignancy?  " 

Tunstall,  whose  eyes  had  been  fixed  dream 
ily  on  a  faint  beam  of  sunlight  that  flickered 
on  the  wall  through  the  partially  closed  blinds, 
turned  now  to  Mrs.  Knowles. 

"There  is  an  end  to  everything,"  he  said 
quietly,  "  and  I  shall  deny  you  nothing  more. 
I  am  sorry  to  have  put  you  to  the  inconven 
ience  of  coming  here,  and  Mr.  Driggs  will  make 
what  amends  he  can.  Oh,  John  !  "  he  called. 

Driggs  opened  the  door  and  entered. 

"  Mrs.  Knowles  is  ready  to  go,  John,"  Tun 
stall  said.  "  Please  do  me  one  more  service  — 
won't  you  ?  —  and  look  after  her  in  any  way 


336  The  Opponents 

that  will  add  to  her  comfort,  or  that  she  may 
suggest." 

"Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Tunstall;  indeed,  I  will," 
Driggs  answered  humbly,  as  if  he  were  already 
in  the  presence  of  the  dead. 

He  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  open  door, 
waiting.  Grace  Knowles  caught  her  breath,  a 
sudden  surge  of  color  in  her  face,  her  lips 
parting  with  the  impulse  to  speak.  But  no 
words  came;  and  seeking  Tunstall's  eyes,  she 
saw  that  they  were  again  fixed  dreamily,  in  ap 
parent  forgetfulness  of  all  else,  on  the  flicker 
of  sunlight  on  the  wall. 

Gathering  her  skirts  cautiously  in  her  hand, 
she  turned  away  and  with  bowed  head  went 
noiselessly  from  the  room,  seemingly  touched 
with  something  of  Driggs'  own  humbled  spirit. 
Driggs  followed,  gently  closing  the  door. 

The  eyes  of  Tunstall  remained  long  on  the 
flickering  sunlight.  He  had,  indeed,  forgotten 
Mrs.  Knowles  and  Driggs,  almost  before  they 
were  out  of  the  room.  For  the  moment  he 
had  forgotten  everything  except  that  Margaret 
Helm  was  free  from  the  menace  he  had  be 
lieved  hanging  over  her.  Not  only  was  he 
relieved  of  the  thought,  revolting  in  itself,  that 
Margaret  had  in  her  veins  the  blood  of  Julius 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      337 

and  Grace  Knowles,  but  he  was  relieved  of  the 
dread  that  she  might  some  time  discover  that 
such  a  curse  was  upon  her.  He  could  think  of 
Margaret  now  without  sullying  his  thought  of 
her  by  wondering  how  it  was  possible  for  such  a 
girl  as  she  to  spring  from  such  parentage ;  but, 
better  than  that,  he  could  also  think  of  her 
without  the  foreboding  that  she  might  find  un- 
happiness  and  humiliation  through  her  knowl 
edge  of  such  parentage.  The  golden  sunbeam 
lengthened  upward  on  the  wall;  through  the 
open  window  the  air  stirred,  languid  with  the 
warmth  of  the  August  afternoon ;  and  across 
the  peaceful  town  drifted  the  mellow  tones  of 
a  distant  church  bell.  For  once  Tunstall 
seemed  at  peace  with  himself  and  the  world. 
It  should  not  be  inferred  that  his  discovery 
of  the  mistake  he  had  made  in  assuming  Mar 
garet  Helm  to  be  Grace  Knowles'  daughter 
plunged  him  into  anguished  repining  for  what 
he  had  lost  through  that  mistake.  He  was  not 
harrowed,  as  he  lay  there  now,  by  any  delu 
sions  as  to  what  might  have  been.  If  he  should 
get  well  now,  his  attitude  toward  Margaret 
could  not  be  different  from  what  he  had  seen 
it  must  be  on  the  day  he  had  followed  the 
wandering  brook  in  the  woods  and  had  fought 

22 


338  The  Opponents 

out  his  fight  while  stretched  on  the  ground  be 
neath  the  pine.  It  is  true  he  knew  now  that 
it  was  a  mistake  which  precipitated  that  fight 
—  a  mistake  which  seemed  a  flimsy  trick 
played  on  him  by  his  own  hastening  senses  — 
but  it  was  a  mistake  which,  as  by  a  glaring 
flash,  revealed  and  illuminated  the  impassable 
chasm  between  himself  and  Margaret,  or  all 
such  as  she.  Margaret  was  not  Grace  Knowles' 
daughter,  as  he  had  then  supposed  she  was, 
but  what  mattered  that?  She  might  have  been. 
At  any  rate,  Grace  Knowles  had  had  a  daughter, 
and  she  might  have  been  in  innocence  and 
loveliness  all  that  Margaret  was.  Margaret  had 
taken  to  her  heart  Grace  Knowles'  daughter; 
but  even  if  she  had  not  done  so,  no  such  girl  as 
Elsie  Russell  might  have  been  and  as  Margaret 
Helm  was,  could  be  for  him,  the  self-appointed 
judge  and  executioner  of  Grace  Knowles.  His 
way,  forever  sundered  from  Margaret's,  had 
been  perfectly  clear  to  him  ever  since  those 
hours  under  the  pine,  and  now  that  he  knew  it 
was  an  error  which  had  shown  him  that  way, 
the  way  itself  remained,  no  whit  less  clear  or 
fixed.  He  did  not  now  even  review  his  decisive 
conclusion  then  made,  or  its  compelling  motives. 
Nor  had  he  a  regret  for  any  step  he  had  taken 


The  Sunlight  on  the  Wall      339 

since,  nor  did  he,  to  the  last,  have  a  vengeful 
feeling  toward  Poindexter,  his  murderer. 

He  died  two  days  later,  and  as  Sidney  Gar- 
rard  and  Hugh  Letcher  stood  beside  him  and 
looked  down  on  him  in  his  coffin,  Hugh  said : 

"  He  had  his  faults,  but  perhaps,  after  all,  it 
is  death  that  unveils  the  real  man.  There  is 
something  godlike  in  the  expression  on  his  face 
now." 

Sidney  bent  over  and  took  Tunstall's  hand 
for  the  last  time,  as  he  answered  in  a  choking 
voice : 

"  He  was  a  big  man,  Hugh  —  big  as  an  oppo 
nent,  big  as  a  friend.  And  it  would  have  been 
different  for  him  if  life  had  been  such  that  he 
could  have  looked  upon  it  with  such  an  ex 
pression  as  this  with  which  he  looks  upon 
death." 

But  the  expression  on  Tunstall's  face  was 
only  that  which  had  come  to  it  on  the  quiet 
Sabbath  afternoon  when  he  had  turned  from 
Grace  Knowles  to  the  flickering  sunlight  on  the 
wall. 


XXVII 

INTO  THE  COMING  SPRING 

LATE  in  February,  a  year  and  a  half  after  the 
events  of  the  Bracebury  convention,  Sidney 
Garrard,  serving  his  first  term  in  Congress,  left 
Washington  for  Kentucky,  in  order  to  be 
present  at  the  wedding  of  Florence  Letcher 
and  Robert  Nixon.  Garrard  would  have  trav 
elled  much  farther  than  Kentucky  to  attend 
Florence  Letcher's  wedding,  even  if  he  had  not 
known  that  Florence  would  have  as  one  of  her 
guests  on  this  occasion  Margaret  Helm. 

He  had  not  seen  Margaret  now  since  the 
first  of  the  winter,  when  he  had  stopped  off, 
on  his  way  to  Washington,  at  the  little  Virginia 
town  in  which  she  lived.  He  had  made  several 
pilgrimages  to  this  town  during  the  preceding 
year  and  a  half,  and  once,  a  few  months  after 
his  nomination  by  the  Bracebury  convention, 
he  had  ventured  an  effort  to  find  whether  the 
time  had  yet  come  for  him  to  press  his  love  to 
an  issue,  and  had  quickly  found  that  it  had  not. 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       341 

With  another  woman  he  might  have  boldly 
taken  the  aggressive  and  won,  but  with  Mar 
garet  he  knew  that  such  a  course  would  be 
fatal,  and  that  his  one  chance  was  in  his  patience 
to  wait.  But  his  patience  was  becoming  pre 
cariously  strained. 

The  afternoon  before  the  wedding  he  had 
out  his  roadsters  and  started  over  to  Letcher 
Tavern  for  Margaret,  who  had  promised  to  drive 
with  him,  "  if  she  could  possibly  get  away." 
He  was  full  of  that  promise  of  Margaret's. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  she  had  said  archly, 
"  you  are  asking  a  great  deal  of  a  girl  to  leave 
all  these  delightful  wedding  preparations  and 
go  off  driving  with  a  mere  man?  " 

"  But  there  is  a  house  full  of  girls  to  attend 
to  the  wedding  preparations,"  he  had  answered. 

"That  makes  it  all  the  harder  for  one  of 
them  to  leave." 

"  Besides,  there  is  something  more  than  a 
mere  man.  There  are  the  horses." 

"  Oh,  those  horses  !  Well,  for  the  horses  I 
would  give  up  much.  So  I  '11  promise  to  go  if 
I  can  possibly  get  away." 

There  had  seemed  something  in  her  manner, 
if  not  in  her  words,  that  set  his  hopes  tingling. 
If  she  had  not  been  standing  out  on  the  front 


342  The  Opponents 

porch,  with  two  or  three  of  the  other  girls 
chattering  at  her  side  and  Shelby  Letcher  in 
cessant  in  his  personal  inquiries  about  the 
"  old-timers  "  at  Washington,  Garrard  felt  that, 
in  spite  of  his  patience,  it  would  have  been 
difficult  for  him  to  resist  the  impulse  to  gather 
her  in  his  arms  and  take  her,  as  the  primeval 
in  a  virile  man  prompts  him  to  take  a  woman, 
by  sheer  force  that  is  not  to  be  withstood. 

As  he  turned  his  horses  toward  Letcher 
Tavern  this  afternoon,  there  was  again  in  his 
blood  the  tingle  of  that  new  something  in  Mar 
garet's  manner,  and  he  gave  the  eager  animals 
a  light  hand.  They  dashed  away  at  a  speed 
that  must  have  satisfied  the  most  impatient 
lover ;  but  it  is  a  well-travelled  bit  of  turnpike 
between  the  Garrard  farm  and  Letcher  Tavern, 
and  a  "  rising  politician "  like  Sidney  could 
hardly  hope  to  traverse  it  without  interruption. 
To  most  of  those  he  met  or  passed  to-day  he 
merely  waved  a  salute  and  tossed  a  hearty 
word  of  greeting,  but  there  were  some  who 
were  not  to  be  denied  more  leisurely  and  in 
timate  interviews.  Squire  Breckinridge  Bodine, 
for  instance,  pulled  up  his  horse  across  the 
road,  and  waited  for  Garrard  to  halt  alongside, 
which,  under  the  circumstances,  he  could  not 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       343 

well  avoid.  Nor  could  he  well  pass  on  until 
the  Squire  had  told  him  what  "  a  grand  ree- 
cord  "  he  was  making  in  Congress,  how  zeal 
ously  and  effectively  Breckinridge  Bodine  had 
worked  to  get  him  to  Congress,  and  how  im 
possible  it  would  be  for  Breckinridge  Bodine 
to  lose  the  next  race  for  county  court  clerk 
if  Sidney  would  only  "  suppote  "  him.  Further 
along  the  pike  Nelse  Tigert,  driving  home  from 
Plover  with  Mrs.  Nelse  Tigert,  must  have  him 
stop  to  shake  the  pudgy  hand  of  little  Sidney 
Garrard  Tigert.  Then  Dunk  Peabody,  astride 
of  Rufe  Wright's  aged  mare,  planted  himself 
leisurely  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

"  Hello,  Sid  !  "  he  called  out  cheerfully. 

"  How  are  you,  Dunk?  "  Garrard  responded, 
throwing  his  horses  back  on  their  haunches. 

"  Y'  ain't  done  got  th'ough  Congriss  already, 
is  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  'm  only  home  on  a  visit  for  a 
few  days." 

"  I  did  n't  'low  you  was  th'ough  yit,  fer  you 
know  we  're  thes  bankin'  on  you  to  do  up  ole 
Mark  Hanna  an'  Jay  Goul'  an'  the  res'  o'  them 
plutycrats  the  fus  chanst  you  git  at  *em." 

"  And  old  Croesus  ?  "  laughed  Garrard.  "  You 
don't  want  me  to  skip  him,  do  you?" 


344  The  Opponents 

"  An'  ole  Croesus,  too,  dad-burn  him !  don't 
you  go  to  skippin'  any  of  'em.  That 's  what  I 
tole  the  boys  when  I  pulled  off  my  coat  an1 
went  to  'lectioneerin'  fer  you." 

"Yes;  I  remember  you  did  finally  fall  in 
line  for  me  before  the  election,  Dunk." 

"  Fall  in  line  fer  you  !  Say,  I  ain't  been  able 
to  borry  a  mount  from  Uncle  Jesse  Craik 
sence.  He  'cuses  me  o'  killin'  that  mule  o' 
hisn  'lectioneerin'  fer  you.  But  I  'd  'a'  s'poted 
you,  Sid,  after  you  was  nominated  by  the  party, 
ef  I  'd  'a'  had  to  kill  a  whole  drove  o'  mules. 
I  'm  a  hard-shell,  Thomas  Jefferson,  Andy  Jack 
son,  Shelby  Letcher  Democrat,  I  am,  an'  I  ain't 
never  bolted  a  nomination  er  scratched  a  tickit 
yit.  Say,  len'  me  a  bite  o'  tobacco,  Sid." 

Dunk  compromised  on  a  cigar,  and  Garrard 
drove  on  to  Letcher  Tavern. 

Throwing  the  reins  to  Minus  at  the  gate,  he 
was  entertained,  while  he  waited  on  the  porch 
for  Margaret,  by  Shelby  Letcher  with  a  history 
of  Andrew  Jackson's  fight  against  the  United 
States  Bank,  accompanied  with  an  urgent  sug 
gestion  that  Garrard  apply  the  lesson  in  deal 
ing  with  certain  issues  pending  in  Congress. 

But  Garrard  was  listening  more  attentively 
for  the  coming  of  Margaret  than  to  the  moral 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       345 

of  Jackson's  veto  of  the  bank's  charter,  and  a 
new  light  was  in  his  face  before  Margaret  was 
visible  at  the  turn  of  the  stairway  in  the  hall. 

"  So  you  did  manage  to  get  away,  after  all !  " 
he  said  with  ill-repressed  exhilaration,  as  he 
took  her  hand  for  an  instant. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  with,  it  seemed  to  him, 
something  of  his  own  radiant  spirit ;  "  I  could 
not  resist  such  a  day." 

"  And  such  horses." 

"  And  such  horses  !  Were  not  the  day  and 
the  horses  made  for  each  other  ?  " 

"  The  quicker  that  young  man  gets  married 
the  better,"  muttered  Shelby  Letcher,  as  he 
watched  the  two  go  down  the  walk  to  the 
gate.  "  He  's  thinking  a  plagued  sight  more 
of  other  things  than  he  is  of  the  United  States 
Bank." 

Margaret  sprang  up  into  the  seat  before 
Garrard  could  help  her,  and  he,  following, 
adjusted  the  robe  about  her  with  a  solicitous 
care  that  even  Minus  must  have  understood  in 
some  degree  had  he  not  been  occupied  at  the 
horses'  heads. 

"  All  right,  Uncle  Minus." 

At  this  from  Garrard,  Minus  stepped  aside 
and  the  horses  leaped  forward,  but  were  im- 


346  The  Opponents 

mediately  pulled  down  into  their  smooth,  reach 
ing  stride  that  was  the  admiration  of  true  lovers 
of  the  trotter.  They  had  gone  perhaps  fifty 
yards  when  Minus  shouted : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Sid  !  " 

Garrard  brought  the  horses  to  a  dancing 
stand,  and  looked  around  at  the  old  negro. 

"What  is  it,  Uncle  Minus?"  he  asked. 

Minus  shuffled  slowly  forward,  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  his  head  soberly  turning  from  side  to 
side. 

"Mr.  Sid,"  he  said,  as  he  came  up  to  the 
wheels,  "  whut  sorter  pistol  wuz  dat?  " 

Garrard  stared  at  the  old  man  blankly. 

"What  pistol?"  he  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"  Dat  ar  pistol  whut  wuz  fired  fom  de  b'loon 
dat  time.  Wuz  she  er  44  er  38,  er  whut?  " 

Garrard's  burst  of  laughter  was  prevented  by 
a  smiling  glance  from  Margaret. 

"Haven't  you  quit  worrying  about  that?" 
Garrard  replied.  "  There  was  n't  any  such 
balloon,  nor  any  such  pistol.  As  I  told  you 
once,  years  ago,  it  was  a  joke  of  mine  that  I 
made  up  just  to  bother  you  with." 

"  I  don't  keer  whut  you  call  it  —  joke  er  no 
joke.  Hit 's  a  sum,  en  a  mighty  good  un,  en 
it 's  boun'  to  have  er  answer,  en  I  ain't  nuver 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       347 

gwine  res'  in  peace  no  mo'  tell  I  works  it  out. 
Only  you  did  fergit  to  say  whut  sorter  pistol 
dat  wuz,  en  'pears  lak  I  gotter  right  to  know 
dat." 

The  horses  were  what  Minus  called  "  gaily," 
and  they  sped  along  the  smooth  turnpikes  and 
elastic  lanes  with  little  restraint  from  Garrard. 
It  was  one  of  those  days  that  sometimes  come 
in  late  February,  with  all  the  brooding  pre 
science  of  spring.  Windless,  cloudless,  with  a 
pervasive  balm  in  the  air  and  a  softer  blue  in 
the  sky,  all  the  mellow  fallow,  all  the  tenderly 
greening  pastures,  all  the  stilled  bareness  of 
wood  and  thicket  seemed  swelling  with  the 
fecund  trance  of  new  life  to  be. 

For  a  good  ten  miles  the  horses  had  their 
heads,  making  a  semicircle  around  Plover  and 
swinging  back  through  the  village.  The  talk 
of  Margaret  and  Garrard  was  frivolous  and 
inconsequential.  For  instance,  driving  down 
the  long  street  of  Plover,  Garrard  said,  as  they 
passed  the  establishment  of  Jaynes  &  Co. : 

"  Some  time,  when  I  get  to  be  a  celebrity, 
and  a  newspaper  reporter  is  sent  to  ask  me 
how  I  made  my  start  in  life,  do  you  know 
what  I  shall  tell  him?" 

"  Oh  !  "  with  affected  awe.     "  Are  you  going 


348  The  Opponents 

to  tell  me  before  you  tell  the  reporter?  No 
celebrity  ever  did  me  that  honor  before !  " 

"I  shall  tell  him  that  I  made  it — with  my 
first  quarter  —  in  the  little  Kentucky  village  of 
Plover,  in  front  of  the  store  of  one  Hi  Jaynes, 
by  holding  the  horses  of  high  and  haughty 
ladies." 

"  And  shall  you  tell  him,"  Margaret  laughed, 
"  that  a  quarter  was  more  than  you  deserved, 
considering  that  it  was  obtained  under  false 
pretences?" 

"  Probably  not.  But  there  are  several  things 
about  that  quarter  I  shall  not  tell  the  reporter. 
I  shall  not  tell  him,  for  example,  that  I  have 
sacredly  kept  it  ever  since  as  my  lucky  piece, 
my  talisman;  that  it  has  brought  me  all  the 
good  fortune  of  my  life;  and  that  if  I  have 
done  anything  or  tried  to  do  anything  worth 
doing,  or  tried  to  be  something  that  I  was  not 
then,  the  desire  and  the  inspiration  all  date 
from  the  day  I  earned  that  quarter." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  card-case  and  open 
ing  it,  removed  a  piece  of  silver.  "  Would  n't 
you  like  to  see  such  a  valuable  coin  ?  "  he  said, 
extending  it  to  her. 

She  turned  it  over  between  her  gloved  fin 
gers,  eying  it  with  mild  curiosity.  Garrard, 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       349 

meanwhile,  gazed  hard  at  the  ears  of  his 
horses,  though  he  did  not  fail  to  note,  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye,  first  the  dawning  rose  in 
Margaret's  face,  and  then  the  smile  with  which 
she  had  taken  the  coin  grow  until  her  lips 
parted  and  her  eyes  twinkled. 

"  So  you  have  kept  it  all  these  years !  "  she 
mused,  without  looking  up  from  the  coin  in 
her  hand. 

"  All  these  many  and  long  years,"  Garrard 
answered  solemnly,  his  eyes  still  well  to  the 
front,  — "  the  longest,  the  most  determined, 
the  most  despairing,  the  most  hopeful  years 
a  man  can  ever  know." 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  really  several  years,"  Mar 
garet  assented,  slowly  turning  the  coin  from 
obverse  to  reverse  and  then  again  to  obverse. 

"  Several !  It  is  six  —  six  full  years  next 
June !  And  during  all  that  time  that  little 
piece  of  silver  has  never  been  out  of  my  pos 
session  for  an  instant,  until  now." 

Margaret  handed  it  back  to  him  with  the 
merriest  of  laughs. 

"  Then  you  must  be  mistaken  about  the 
length  of  time  you  have  had  it.  Have  you 
noticed  the  date  on  it?  It  was  coined  only 
two  years  ago." 


350  The  Opponents 

"  Two  years  ago !  "  Garrard  exclaimed,  in 
credulous,  staring  at  the  minted  date  in  aston 
ishment.  "  So  it  was.  I  don't  understand  it. 
I — "  he  searched  carefully  through  the  card- 
case  —  "I  have  never  kept  any  other  money 
in  this."  He  looked  through  his  pockets  in 
vain.  "  I  can't  imagine  how  it  happened. 
I  'm  afraid  I  Ve  lost  it,"  he  concluded  dis 
consolately. 

"  Oh,  well,"  Margaret  cheerfully  assured 
him,  "the  substitute  seems  to  have  served 
you  as  well  as  the  original.  You  Ve  had 
even  better  luck  the  past  year  or  two  than 
before." 

"  I  'd  rather  have  lost  anything  else  I  had," 
he  said  with  such  earnestness  that  Margaret  did 
not  laugh  at  him  further,  but  called  his  atten 
tion  to  the  flight  of  a  pair  of  wild  ducks  far  in 
the  sky. 

They  drove  homeward  by  the  Old  Mill  Road, 
that  skirted  Tunstall  Paddocks,  now  the  estate 
of  one  of  the  wealthy  New  Yorkers  who  find  it 
well  to  have  a  breeding-farm  in  Kentucky  as  an 
adjunct  to  their  racing-stables  in  the  East. 
They  passed  Garrard's  own  home,  with  Kate 
Cockerill  running  to  the  door  to  wave  them  a 
salute,  and  then  struck  into  the  stretch  of  road, 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       351 

over  which  they  had  driven  nearly  six  years 
before,  to  Letcher  Tavern. 

Their  long  and  swift  journey  had  taken  the 
edge  off  the  horses,  and  they  were  content  to 
slacken  their  pace,  in  obedience  to  Garrard's 
pressure  on  the  bits.  As  they  passed  under 
the  wild-grape  arch,  Garrard  pulled  them  to  a 
walk. 

"  The  Tavern  is  too  near  and  there  is  too 
little  of  this  rare  day  left  to  hurry  through  it," 
he  said. 

"Yes,"  Margaret  assented,  "drive  slowly 
along  here.  It  is  the  loveliest  road  we  have 
been  over  to-day,  and  it  may  be  winter  again 
to-morrow.  But  this  afternoon,  and  here,  one 
may  feel  the  spring,  if  he  may  not  see  it." 

"  But  one  may  see  it  too,  or  at  least  some 
signs  of  it.  Look  how  the  stubble  is  being 
ploughed  under  yonder.  Look  what  a  com 
motion  the  crows  are  making  over  the  ploughed 
ground.  Look  at  those  horses  in  the  pasture 
there ;  do  you  notice  how  their  shaggy  winter 
coats  are  stained  with  clay?  They  have  been 
lying  down  and  rolling  over  and  over  in  the 
good,  soft  dirt." 

"  And  look  at  the  pasture  itself.  Could  any 
thing  be  more  exquisitely  fresh  than  the  new 


352  The  Opponents 

green  under  the  dead  weeds  and  brown  grass? 
And  over  there,  along  the  river,  can  you  not 
see  a  faint  mist  of  color  on  the  tops  of  the 
bushes?  And,  really,  isn't  that  a  redbud  down 
there?" 

"  Surely  you  do  not  see  a  redbud  yet !  There 
is  a  redbud  tree  along  here,  but  there  is  a  dog 
wood  beside  it,  and  they  always  bloom  together. 
You  don't  see  any  signs  of  dogwood  blossoms, 
do  you?  And  do  you  know  what  that  odor 
is?" 

"  Of  course !  The  odor  of  the  ploughed 
ground." 

"Do  you  smell  that,  too?  I  was  speaking 
of  an  odor  not  so  subtle  —  that  of  burning  brush. 
You  can  see  the  haze  of  smoke,  away  over  there 
in  one  of  the  fields  behind  Letcher  Tavern. 
And  you  can  also  hear  the  coming  of  spring  at 
Letcher  Tavern,  even  at  this  distance.  Have 
you  ever  noticed  before,  this  winter,  such  an 
exuberant  chorus  from  the  Letcher  Tavern 
fowls?" 

"  But  listen  to  the  river !  What  a  crooning 
new  song  it  has !  It  did  not  have  it  yesterday." 

The  slowly  walking  horses  stopped,  almost 
of  their  own  accord,  and  Margaret  and  Garrard 
looked  out  over  the  peaceful  scene  stretching 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       353 

to  the  widely  circling  horizon.  Then  they 
turned  simultaneously  to  each  other. 

"  Margaret." 

"  Yes,"  she  faltered,  her  eyes  falling  in  spite 
of  her. 

"  Do  you  remember  it  was  here,  nearly  six 
years  ago,  that  you  would  not  let  me  speak  of 
what  I  most  wished  to  speak  of?" 

"  Yes,"  so  low  that  he  would  not  have  been 
certain  of  it  but  for  the  motion  of  her  lips. 

"  And  of  what  I  have  most  wished  to  speak 
of  ever  since?" 

There  was  a  moment  during  which  she  made 
no  sign.  Then  there  was  a  tremor  of  the 
lashes,  and  when  she  raised  her  eyes  there  was 
a  light  in  them  that  not  even  the  sun  of  such  a 
day  as  this  ever  struck  into  the  heart  of  the 
singing  river.  She  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  I  shall  never  tire  of  listening  to  it  now," 
she  answered. 

It  was  an  hour  yet  to  Letcher  Tavern,  as 
Sidney  Garrard  drove,  for  there  were  many 
things  to  say  and  to  hear,  now  that  the  last  seal 
of  constraint  was  removed  from  these  two. 
Half  of  this  hour  had  flown  when  Garrard  was 
asking: 

"  Tell  me,  when  did  you  know?  " 


354  The  Opponents 

"I  —  was  not  sure  until  recently  —  until  this 
winter." 

"  Until  some  time  after  I  saw  you  last  in 
Virginia?" 

She  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  That  is  no  news  to  me,"  he  said,  as  one 
who  looks  back  on  perils  passed.  "  I  have 
always  known,  until  this  last  visit  to  Kentucky, 
that  you  were  not  sure." 

"  There  is  —  something  else  I  ought  to  tell 
you,  perhaps,"  she  ventured  with  a  little 
hesitation. 

"  Tell  me  anything  or  nothing,  as  you  like," 
he  answered  in  content.  "  Nothing  but  what 
you  have  already  told  me  to-day  can  matter 
now." 

Away  to  the  left,  under  the  western  sun,  lay 
the  fences  and  stables  of  Tunstall  Paddocks. 
On  the  side  of  a  low  hill,  in  a  clump  of  young 
pines  and  willows,  was  the  family  burying- 
ground,  from  which  rose  an  ostentatious  granite 
shaft  erected  in  Morgan  Tunstall's  memory  by 
some  of  his  political  admirers.  Margaret's  eyes 
rested  on  this  monument  for  a  little,  and  then 
she  turned  again  to  Garrard. 

"While  Mr.  Tunstall  was  alive,  I  was  not 
sure,"  she  said  simply. 


Into  the  Coming  Spring       355 

"  Yes,  I  understood  that,"  was  Garrard's 
quiet  reply. 

"  And  —  and  if  he  had  not  died,  I  am  not 
sure  even  now  whether  in  the  end  it  would 
have  been  you  or  he." 

"  You  have  told  me  nothing  that  I  did  not 
know  already,  dear,"  Garrard  said,  pressing  her 
hand,  "  and  nothing  that  can  make  any  differ 
ence  now  that  I  know  that,  whatever  might  or 
might  not  have  been,  it  is  I." 

The  horses  picked  their  way  along  the  smooth 
road  toward  Letcher  Tavern.  Behind  now 
were  Tunstall  Paddocks  and  the  granite  col 
umn  ;  in  front,  the  sunlight  on  the  broadening 
river.  Margaret  and  Garrard,  looking  forward 
or  into  each  other's  eyes,  went  on  into  the 
coming  spring. 


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